Nick Fury's Avengers
by ndub33
Summary: An apocalyptic event didn't finish the superheroes-fear and ennui did. In this enviroment, Nick Fury gets one last shot at redeeming himself and SHIELD by re-forming the Avengers. Don't bet against him.
1. Chapter 1

NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 1-LEADERS PROMOTE LEADERSHIP

Nick Fury doesn't really have an office (or a home for that matter). The one he is co-opting right now is in a sub-basement of The Pentagon. The previous tenant left behind a desk and a chair, and there are plenty of AC outlets for him to plug in his various electronics, including a large coffee urn. He would camp here for the afternoon, then head to the New Mexico desert at dinnertime.

He had a lot going on-in the U.S. and around the world. The progress he had made in two years had been astounding to the small handful of individuals who had seen him start from nothing…

Two years prior, Fury was reinstated as the Director of SHIELD to resuscitate the organization. Since his departure years before, several Directors had attempted to build it in their own images. The cumulative result was a watered-down, overstaffed bloat of tax dollars that served no real purpose except to back up the FBI and CIA in missions involving "gifted" super-criminals. The current Presidential Administration had reviewed the history of the organization, and had come to the conclusion that Fury had been the only leader to ever distinguish SHIELD from the other dozens of Black Ops entities employed over the years. Apologies were issued, by way of a blank check and almost complete autonomy in building SHIELD into a viable force once again. The risk/reward ratio was high, though…if he failed, SHIELD would be folded, and Fury would be dealt with appropriately…whatever that meant. There was zero margin for failure.

There are "normal" SHIELD employees, although not many. But the core of Fury's rebuilding effort was to reform the Avengers.

Fury's vision of the Avengers was specific –they were to be the centerpiece of the "new" SHIELD, exclusively a division of the organization-but without any additional Government restraint. No "special clearances" subject to months of review, no interference in recruitment and membership. Fury accepted full responsibility for their actions. Failure meant not only did his current run as the head of SHIELD was over, but the long and illustrious history of the Avengers likely also came to a final close. For that reason, he was very selective in his choices for membership. No Thunder Gods, no androids, no aliens from a distant galaxy. If things went south for anyone on this team, a quick and surgical solution needed to be feasible.

The landscape of super-powered beings had changed, become fragmented. There were no Avengers, no Fantastic Four. The X-Men appeared to be undergoing some sort of internal political rift that divided them into several splinter groups. Many familiar heroes became fed up with the high-risk-no reward nature of the work. Some walked away due to personal loss. Those that had hoped to keep fighting the good fight were trying to do it on their own, with mixed results. Locating and monitoring them was one of Fury's current ongoing projects. Without the galvanization of a group purpose, the bad guys were winning the global battle. Norman Osborne was accumulating assets and technology in the States. Von Doom was making noise in Europe. On Genosha, the partnership of Xavier, Lenshurr and Namor was growing its ranks-although it was impossible to tell if they were a threat or an ally. The Hulk was, as usual running loose, leaving a wake of personal and property damage.

In addition to a core field team of Avengers, Fury planned to place several other super-powered agents throughout the globe in strategic hot spots. Some of these agents would be deployed to simply observe and report activities. Some would act as liaisons or diplomats. Some would have more actionable agendas.

The final component of Fury's reorganizational plan was a Research and Development Team. All four of the current members of R and D had long resumes as superheroes-and were also amongst the most brilliant scientific minds in the world. Their role was to "Think Tank" technical solutions to SHIELD tasks, and in the cases of extreme emergency, go into the field as members of the Avengers. Fury has targeted a fifth member for R and D, and this person's recruitment and indoctrination is the highest immediate priority for both the field Avengers and the R and D team.

Staffing R and D was Fury's first action. He needed technological support to help him build his other teams, find opportunities for them, arm them properly and monitor global Hot Spots. He found the leader of R and D in Turkey- drunk, in disguise, and going by the name "Howard Obadiah".

As far as the rest of the world knew, Tony Stark had vanished shortly after the Senate hearings regarding his business dealings with countries who were not necessarily friends of the United States. He liquidated his own assets and emptied all of his bank accounts, which placed the Savings and Loan industry into a brief tailspin. Stark Industries was absorbed by Osborne Chemicals in a hostile takeover that many believed had put Norman Osborne at the brink of bankruptcy. Osborne had a major lawsuit pending against Stark regarding certain intellectual properties that he felt now belonged to him. Those properties went into hiding with Stark.

Fury caught up with Stark in a "private" men's club in Istanbul. The hair was shoulder-length and bleached white, the trademark goatee was gone-but the roulette wheel and the single-malt scotch were befriending him in ways that the US Government, Norman Osborne and his former teammates never could.

Stark was enroute to a Croupier to cash in a large ornate bucket of chips when Fury stopped him. Club security initially closed in, but Fury flashed his high level Government Security ID, and they all silently vanished. He knew he would undoubtedly be monitored electronically for the duration of his stay at the club. He took Stark by the arm and ushered him to a corner table.

Stark's sarcasm reflected that this wasn't a happy reunion from his perspective, "So…have you come to haul my sorry ass back to the States to pay for my past indiscretions?"

"I came to offer you a job."

Stark looked Fury squarely in his one good eye and sifted his hand through the bucket of gaming chips. "There's about $300, 00.00 American in here. I made it in about 45 minutes. I'm not sure what your proposed pay scale is, but…"

"I've been reinstated as the Director of SHIELD. I need you to head up an organizational Think Tank. You'll actually be paid zero…zip…zilch. But you will have every need taken care of, and a chance to work with the most brilliant minds in the world. And all those nasty ol' outstanding warrants will all go away."

Stark openly laughed, "C'mon Nick…I don't exactly have a great history of working and playing well with others. I'm a hedonist. Everything I do is self-serving. And I like it that way. I like how I live right now."

"The way you live right now won't last fer long. Brilliant as you are, you absolutely suck at goin' underground. Hell, the CIA even knows who 'Howard Obadiah' is. I had ta negotiate like a sonofabitch to get first crack at ya. If ya turn my offer down, I got no control over what The Spooks might do…"

"Look Fury-you don't scare me, OK? The CIA. Please."

"Fine. At least I can say I gave it a shot. Go back to yer game, Stark…and wonder what ya coulda come up with leadin' the best group o' big brains every assembled. They'll do just fine without ya…an' I'll make sure that the whole world knows they did it without any help from ya."

Stark slumped slightly in his chair, gaze still fixed on Fury. "Who have you got, Nick?"

"Pym. I'll get Richards if I can find him. McCoy is in San Francisco with the subversive splinter of the X-Men, but he'll come for the facility I've had built. Big improvement over what he and his Mutie buddy Worthington can spring for. An' I'll get Banner as soon as th' rest of 'em figure out how to keep him from trashin' an entire city every time he breaks the lead in his mechanical pencil."

"So basically, your R and D Team right now is a violent schizophrenic who can make himself 25 feet tall. We get the Internet here in Paradise, Nick. Richards has been MIA since his ex-wife got capped. McCoy is on everyone's Most Wanted List, along with every other Mutant in the free world. The last time anyone saw Banner, he was bushing his teeth with a redwood tree. "

"I know where Richards is. I need you to get him out and make sure he doesn't go back."

"Get him 'out' of where, Fury?"

"The Negative Zone, we think. There is evidence that suggests that he was tryin' ta kill himself. He may have been successful. We won't know until someone goes in to look".

A low whistle emitted from Stark. Then he sighed. "Why do you need me to reel him in? I would think that his FF buddies would be a lot more experienced with what someone might find in there".

"Listen there are only two people in the World that know how to operate Richards' Negative Zone Portal. One of 'ems already in there and the other one's busy tryin' to take over Europe. I need someone who (A) is smart enough ta figure out how that portal works and (B) is a big enough bullshitter to talk him out. ..if he's alive, that is. You were th' first guy I thought of".

Stark grinned, "Given your criteria, I had better have been the _only_ guy you thought of".

Fury returned the grin, "As for his 'FF Buddies', there's one left. Grimm. He's at the Baxter Building now with Jennifer Walters. They're waiting to go find Richards…or his body, at least. They need someone ta open th' door for them. Storm is too busy dominatin' International Auto Racing to be bothered."

Stark folded his arms across his chest and gazed at a slowly turning ceiling fan for several moments. He knew that John Storm had retired permanently from the spandex crowd when an assassin's bullets had dropped his his sister, niece and nephew. Stark's fascination in fast cars motivated him to keep informed via web-surfing of Storm's swift rise in Formula One racing.

"OK…here is my counter proposal…you clear my name in the States…permanently. You see to it that the rest of the Government' s countless teams of Black Ops ghouls stays off my butt…permanently. And in return, I'll find what's left of Richards, and recruit and secure your little R and D fraternity. Once they are all on board, I'm out. This may take months, and there are casinos all over the world that I haven't dropped a few hundred grand in yet. That's my offer. If you don't like it, I'll be happy to take my chances with the CIA and you can figure out how to staff your Mensa For Maniacs club."

"You don't want me to take care of Osborne too?"

"Tempting…but I have my own plans for Normie…and my own timetable. Right now I'm happy as Hell to be an irritant for him. It wasn't enough that he got all of my real estate. He wants to milk my brain as well. He's got guys trying to shadow me too, you know".

"Yeah…I saw Gargan in the lobby of this little playpen. The whole fuckin' world thinks they can be spies, I guess. Look…I've got vigilantes and a blank check, Stark. If you want Norman's head on your mantle, I can help ya with that…but I would really rather that you did it with a clearly outlined agenda and using the resources that I can give ya. It all fits in the framework, Tony. I don't need any wild cowboy shit. And while we're on the topic, I'm hiring Tony Stark, not Iron Man. I may have ya work on armor, but ya don't put it on unless it's by direct order from me."

"You've got Rhody in the fold, don't you?"

Yep…and a few others that will be my field team. But that's not in yer purview. I'll give ya plenty ta keep ya busy in the lab".

Stark weighed the possibilities. It was a chance to go home, with his name cleared. His assets were entirely liquid at this point, but intact. In fact, he had added to them in his exile. If this didn't pan out, he had the wherewithal to cut and run again. And it was a chance to get Stark Industries back from Norman Osborne.

On the other hand, this dream of Fury's had very little "in hand". Pym was brilliant, the most highly regarded Biological researcher in the world, but extremely emotionally damaged. Stark assumed that Fury had him on all sorts of meds to keep him productive. Richards may not even be alive. No way of knowing if McCoy had any interest in joining them, unless Fury has some Intel that he isn't sharing. And as always, Banner was the biggest wild card of them all.

Oh yeah, and he wasn't allowed to be Iron Man anymore. That torch had been passed without any consultation.

"OK Nick, I'll tell you what…you know I like long odds, and what you've laid out is just crazy enough to grab my attention for a while. I'll get your team together, and I _will _leverage you to nail Osborne, but I'm still not seeing this as a permanent gig, OK? There will be a time when I'm going to consider my work done, and I don't want any crap when I decide that. "

Fury rose form his chair and stuck out his hand. "Fair 'nuff. I can hang here in Paradise until yer ready to go…how much time do ya need?"

"I travel light, Nick. I'm gonna celebrate my good fortune tonight and pack tomorrow. That work?"

"Yep…so here is the timetable…we blow outa here via Quinjet tomorrow _morning_. Your days of sleepin' til noon are over for a while. I have an HQ set up for you brainiacs in Baltimore. A day to settle in there, then yer off to New York ta start lookin' for Richards…and a little outpatient rehab."

"Whoa…hold on, Fury. The drunk tank wasn't part of our deal."

"I don't have time ta babysit fucked up geniuses, Stark. That's what I'm hirin' _you _for. I need ta trust ya ta keep everyone productive when I'm not there. You gotta have a clear head ta do that. I have a team of folks that are gonna meet ya at the Baxter Building-most of 'em are there to help with the Richards deal, but one of 'em is an addiction counselor. Get sober or get lost, Tony. This is one condition I won't back down on. "

Stark turned to look out over the casino, evaluating how much damage he could do to himself in the next twelve hours. "But I can still have tonight…" he turned back around. Fury was gone.

Stark slapped the table, laughing. One more scotch, and quick hand of Baccarat, then he would retire to his suite. He knew there would be a knock at his door before the sun rose the next morning.

While Fury was in Istanbul hustling Tony Stark, Steve Rogers was in a Mom and Pop diner in Sparks, Nevada, making a similar pitch to the man who would be his replacement in Fury's new Avengers.

Much like Stark, Clint Barton had initially thought that Rogers had tracked him down to arrest him. There was, after all, a murder rap on his head. Not to mention in his head.

"Look Steve, I appreciate that you took the time to chase all over the U.S. lookin' for me, but I'm not Avenger material anymore…and mebee I never was."

"Clint listen-Fury can clear the murder charge. The fact is, you took one more vermin out of the mix. The world is a better place for it. It isn't an Avengers team without you. You, above all others, embody what this group has always stood for. More than Stark, more than Pym, more than me. You represent the tremendous good that can come from taking advantage of a second chance. Don't throw that away".

"Well, first of all, bless your heart, but you're full of shit with that 'Heart and soul of the Avengers' line. _You_ held that team together through the very worst of times. _You_ never let us give up. _Stark_ kept us fed and sheltered, and kept the government off our asses. All I did was build up a lot of tenure because I had no place else to go. Hell, I don't even have a 'super power'. Second, whatever cred I did have from rubbin' elbows with the big boys, I've already thrown it away. I killed a man. Is that what you call 'taking advantage of a second chance'?"

"You eliminated a threat. Lester was insane, couldn't have been rehabilitated. You saved the taxpayers from having to pay to feed and clothe him in prison. He killed a lot of people, and he would have killed you if you hadn't acted. "

"So, what makes his murders worse than mine, Steve? "

"He did it over and over again-for fun. You did it once to serve a greater good. There _is_ a difference, if you would just stop for a second and see it."

Barton shook his head. "Dead is dead. You can't slice bologna like that thin enough to justify it."

Steve Rogers had fought in World war Two, along with his long and illustrious run as Captain America, battling more civilian, but no less dangerous threats as the leader of the Avengers. He had seen a lot of people die, several by his own hand. In his mind, there was justifiable killing and not justifiable killing. The fact that Barton wouldn't-or couldn't- make this distinction was going to make his recruitment challenging. He decided to change the approach.

"How long have you been out here on the road, Clint? What do you do for money?"

"I had a little saved up from personal appearances I had done as Hawkeye. I bought the Harley with part of that. I've been doing a little of this, a little of that since I left your last attempt at an Avengers team…construction, farm labor, I even dusted off my old carney skills, working scam booths…ring toss, knock over the pins, that kinda stuff. I'll stick in a place until I think I have enough dough ta move on, or until I think someone recognizes me…"

"You've changed your appearance some, but it isn't the greatest disguise, Clint…"

Rogers was right about the change in Barton's appearance. Never exactly a wimp, he was bigger, more thickly muscled especially in the chest and arms. Rogers attributed that to the demanding physical labor he had participated in, in the almost three years he had been on the road. His hair was almost completely snow-white, and had grown to shoulder-length, and a thick Fu Manchu moustache framed his mouth. His skin was weather-beaten. He looked fit, but about ten years older than his actual age.

"Yeah, well, as long as we're on the subject of looks, yer skinnier than Hell. You got cancer or somethin'?"

Rogers looked down at the thick, old-fashioned milkshake glass that he was slowly turning in both of his hands. "No…no, not cancer, thank God. But I can't be Captain America anymore".

The truth was, Rogers was far from emaciated…but he was notably smaller than Barton. They both knew that three years ago, he wouldn't have been.

Barton's inquisitive gaze invited him to tell the story.

"A few months ago, I started noticing that I wasn't recovering physically from scraps as quickly as I used to. I was stiff and sore the day after, which had never happened before. I started seeing some other signs that things weren't right…missing targets with my shield, not putting people away with the first punch. Fury picked up on it, too. He had me spend several weeks with Hank Pym, running tests…"

"Pym? Is he workin' again?"

"He's very good in the lab-best biologist in the world. I don't think he'll ever be in uniform again though. The stress triggers his …issues…"

Barton nodded in thoughtful agreement.

" What he found", Rogers continued, "Is that after 70 plus years, the chemicals and radiation that made me Captain America are finally starting to wear off. The regression will be slow, but eventually, I will be the one-hundred-thirty-five-pound 4F'er that I was in the '40s".

Barton sat in contemplation for several moments, processing this news. It was like learning that a relative died. Finally, he asked a question.

"How do you and Fury expect to have any success with an Avengers team that doesn't have a Captain America? That's been tried before, y'know".

"We intend to have a Captain America, Clint. It just won't be me. My role will be as a 'strategist'. I won't go into the field, but I will be guiding activities".

"Who then-Barnes?"

"Bucky's on the SHIELD payroll-but he works best alone, and his skills are better suited for more…um…permanent solutions".

Barton shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "Uh huh…he's Fury's hit man, in other words."

"That's in scope for his assignments, if it is deemed necessary. Mostly, he's doing some advanced scouting. Trying to find people we have an interest in that for whatever reason aren't listed in the phone book. He helped us track you down."

Barton laughed, for the first time in the conversation. "You may be the last person left in America that actually uses a phone book." The laugh quickly faded as he re-focused on the discussion. "Wilson?"

"I love Sam like a brother, but he doesn't have the chops to be Captain America. He's SHIELD's Mutant Liaison. He flies to Genosha regularly to get updates and offer assistance".

"So, you're in bed with Xavier and Lenshurr?"

"We try to keep our friends close and our enemies closer. What they are doing on that island is a potential wild card-could go in a lot of directions, not all of them good. Sam's helping make sure that a spark doesn't land in that tinderbox".

"T'Challa?"

"Full plate. He is the king of the richest nation in Africa, after all. He makes very generous donations of money and raw materials to SHIELD, but he's not going to be an active Avenger. "

"There isn't anyone else who can fill your boots, Steve. If you're considering anyone beyond those three, I have even less interest in re-upping".

Rogers grinned. "You've overlooked an obvious candidate".

As Barton stared back at the grin, a slow recognition of Rogers' point began to take hold.

"…Uh uh, no…no way…Jeez, Steve…if I'm not up to bein' an Avenger, I'm sure as Hell not up to bein' the new Captain America. "

"Why not? Clint, listen…even if my physical condition hadn't started eroding, I may not have been the best Captain America for right now. My values were formed in the 30's and 40's . They don't fit anymore. And I'm too old to change. You, on the other hand …you _are _the current America. You've worked your butt off for everything you've ever gotten. You've recognized when you've had a second chance and capitalized on it. Falling down, getting back up, doing it better the next time…_that _ is what America is supposed to be about today,Clint".

"…even if it means taking a life to get what I want…"

"Look, let's forget about the Avengers for a minute…forget about who Captain America is, or will be…Clint, how will you get on with your life if you can't forgive yourself? Can't put this behind you? You need help. You can't do this alone".

"Just what kind of 'help' are you suggesting, Steve? Weekly sessions with a SHIELD shrink? Is that how Fury got Pym back on the payroll?"

" Hank's got different issues…and no, that is not exactly what I am suggesting. SHIELD can get the best psychologists in the world on this…in the world, Clint…not SHIELD shrinks, top-drawer civilian experts".

As they talked, Barton produced a roll of cash from his vest pocket. He carefully wrapped their lunch check around the outside of it and folded the mass of paper so that it was in a secure bundle, his eyes never leaving Rogers' eager gaze.

"Tell ya what, Steve", he sneered. "When I think my head is in need of some Nick Fury-mandated programming, I'll look him up". His eyes shifted momentarily from Rogers to the waitress standing at the open cash register several feet across the aisle and probably twenty feet more down from their booth. With his focus returned to Rogers, he made a light overhand toss of the packaged money towards the waitress. It landed in the register drawer in a compartment usually reserved for bills larger than twenties, but currently empty. The waitress took a step back a let out a sharp, startled "eep".

Barton stood up from the booth. "I'm done here. You?"

Rogers rose as well. "For now". He reached into a pocket of his slacks and produced a business card, which he handed to Barton. "This is my contact information. Whether you join us or not, I'd like to stay in touch. You need to know that you still have friends. Lots of them, if you just let it happen."

Barton read the card. No name, no SHIELD logo. Just a fifteen digit secured government satellite phone number.

"Uh huh…and how many SHIELD fiduciaries are standing by waiting to answer when I dial this?"

"Call it right now and find out".

"Nah…out of our history together, I'll take your word for it. "

The pair silently walked past the still-flustered waitress and out the door of the diner. As they neared Rogers' rented Ford Taurus, Barton broke the silence.

"So where ya off to from here?"

"Back to our new HQ. Ton of stuff to do. Jan is ready to assume leadership of the field team, in the event that you declined my offer…which is obviously the case…so, she'll need to be prepped. If Fury had any success with his recruiting trip to Istanbul, I'll need to get Grimm and Jennifer ready to fly to New York to meet them. I also need to check the repairs on the main barn and fences around the lower pasture. After that, I'm off to either Monaco or Portland, depending on which day I'm ready to go. "

Barton ribbed his chin as Rogers got behind the wheel of the Taurus and rolled down the window. "Ya got another minute for like, about 50 more questions?"

Rogers grinned. "Of course".

"OK, I'll try to get these in the right order. Jan, Grimm, Jennifer? Who's on this new team? "

"So far, the three you named….Luke Cage and his wife, whom I have barely had time to meet. Their kid is an absolute doll, though. Colonel James Rhodes. To anticipate one of your next questions, I'm going to be chasing John Storm around the Formula One circuit to see if he has an interest. There are others. Bucky is doing the tracking…I just swoop in and do my sales pitch when he gives me coordinates".

"Who is Fury draggin' in from Istanbul?"

"Tony Stark. But he won't be part of the field team. Fury wants him to head up an R and D group. Technology implementation only-no' bang bang shoot 'em up'. That's what we're for. "

"You think Fury will land Stark?"

"I wouldn't bet against him…would you?"

"Who else is in R and D?"

"Just Hank so far…but Fury has some ambitious plans".

"'Course he does…what the Hell did I hear ya say about 'main barns" and 'lower pastures'?"

Rogers laughed openly and shook his head. "Gee, I totally forgot to tell you about our new HQ. I'm planning for my career after super-heroing, Clint. I am the proud owner of a very large, previously abandoned farm and acreage in North Dakota. There is a lot of renovation going on there right now."

"Little retirement gift from Uncle Sam?"

"Yep. "

"Mind if I ask what yer cash crop is, Farmer Rogers"?

"We're near the Canadian border-not much will grow there, so I'm focused on cattle and raising horses for work on our farm or to sell to others .but mainly Clint, I want to harvest a really big crop of world peace."

"How's the demand for that these days?"

"Huge, Clint", Rogers started the engine of the Taurus. "Huge".

Barton shook Rogers' hand through the open widow of the car, then turned and walked towards his motorcycle, parked several feet away. He straddled the bike and watched the Taurus drive into the flat desert distance until it was no longer visible even to his highly trained eyes. He then spent several more minutes staring at the phone number on the card that Rogers had handed him. There would me much to think about on the ride to Reno.

pg. 7


	2. Chapter 2

NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 1-OUTLIERS

James Buchanan Barnes was in his element. He had the names of people to stalk, an updated passport and a full livery of ammunition.

Barnes was one of Fury's very first hires. At the outset, Fury needed to find people, and in most cases, those people didn't want to be found. Nobody could track the missing like Bucky Barnes. As an added bonus, Fury actually let him cap a couple once he found them.

The gig worked like this: Fury would send an encrypted name to Barnes via PDA. Each name would be mapped to one of two succinct follow up instructions: "REPORT LOCATION" or "ELIMINATE" .Barnes would grab any lead he could find. Often Google Search gave him what he needed. Sometimes he had to hack Government files for information. The U.S. Government's, someone else's, it didn't matter to Bucky. Everything he could get his hands on was in play. Next came the fun part: the physical manhunt. Bucky had been to places in the world that everyone has heard of, and that no one has heard of. He had stalked demi-gods, mutants, cold-blooded killers, skid row bums, and high profile political and religious figures.

All of the "REPORT LOCATION" targets were super heroes, or former superheroes. Many of the "ELIMINATE" ones were not.

In fact, if you read in the paper that a country in South America or the Middle East was undergoing major political upheaval due to the sudden death of their leader, chances are very good that Bucky Barnes had been there recently.

He did get a chance to off the occasional meta-human though. Moon Knight was his favorite so far.

Bucky learned very quickly through covert observation that Marc Spector was every bit as talented and bloodthirsty as he himself was. And as an added bonus, he might have been crazier. Spector's multiple personality disorder made him a particular challenge to track down, and keep tracked. In the several weeks that Bucky spent finding him, losing him, then finding him again, a begrudging respect had grown. When the deal finally went down, and Barnes was standing over the asphyxiated corpse of Spector, he decided that the highest tribute he could pay to such an admirable target was to co-opt his identity.

Not that Bucky version of the Moon Knight was a carbon copy of Spector's, you understand. The cape got in the way of work, so it was left with Spector's body. The pure white of the costume was horrible for covert surveillance. Black would work much better. Spector was stripped, and the outfit would be replicated in the right tone later. But the mask and the hood were very cool. And the quarter-moon throwing stars were a nice addition to his arsenal.

Bucky made a rare verbal status report to Fury that night, informing him that the latest mission was accomplished and that he would be going by a new code name.

"I didn't just trade in one lunatic for another, did I, Barnes?" Fury sighed.

Bucky laughed. "No Nick…I'm still your guy. I just think the persona fits what I do. I haven't been Captain America's kid sidekick for a few decades, and I'm sure as hell not a soviet arm-breaker anymore either. This just symbolizes what I am now".

"Make sure that's the case. What you are now doesn't make me sleep any easier. I don't want ta have ta take you down too".

Bucky didn't know what Fury did with the people he had found with the "REPORT LOCATION" status, and he didn't really care. Most of these were easy-superheroes leave pretty visible trails. In one particularly busy week, he had tagged Tony Stark in Istanbul and Clint Barton travelling south though Utah. Easy money. Others on this list were tougher.

It took every computer resource Bucky had to pick up Logan's trail in Northwest Canada. From there, he spent weeks in small villages, standalone roadhouses and campgrounds interviewing people who may have seen him. He had aroused a fair amount of suspicion in this part of the world, where visitors are rare, and visitors asking questions were always bad news. He was physically and mentally exhausted when he sat on a rented snowmobile on a side street in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska preparing for visual confirmation of Logan's presence there. That's when the voices started.

Voices in Bucky's head were nothing new. Years of Communist brainwashing followed by more years of SHIELD deprogramming had left their scars on his psyche. But these voices were different. They belonged to real people.

The first one was female. "Stay away from this one, Barnes. He's not for you".

"Hunh?" For a moment, Bucky thought that the lack of sleep had finally gotten to him.

"Go to the next name on your list. Turn around. Go. Now."

"Who are you?'

"Doesn't matter. Leave Howlett alone. "

A second voice joined. Male, with a clipped, slightly European, highly articulate tone. "She's right, James. You are inviting trouble for you and SHIELD by being here. Leave immediately. And Emma, I'll thank you to do the same."

The female, in response to the second voice, "You used to be above this kind of petulance, Charles. Howlett won't join us any more than he will move to your little island paradise. I'm just making sure that his privacy is respected."

Bucky could feel Mr. Articulate sneer inside his head. "As if I had any reason to trust your intentions, Emma. When will you be done with stealing from me?"

The woman: "Mutants aren't inventory, Charles. Freedom of choice applies to us too".

"_Alright already!" _Bucky swore that all he had done was thought this, but his voice echoed off of the aluminum of the Quonset hut he had hidden behind. He held his breath and listened for signs that he had been overheard, then exhaled deeply to compose himself. Having gained the attention of both of the telepathic entities, he continued,

"If I go and never come back, could you two continue your debate somewhere else besides in my brain pan?"

Emma Frost, sitting in the lotus position on the living room floor of an artsy flat in San Francisco, responded, "You'll go anyway, Barnes. You're in over your head here, and I think you understand that now. If breaking this psychic link makes you start that snowmobile faster, I'm happy to accommodate".

Charles Xavier , in his study on the island of Genosha agreed, "I have very little interest in any of your activities that don't involve the Mutant Community, James. But rest assured that I reserve the right to visit you again if you continue to chase our kind. Feel free to share that with your superiors as well. You have made your peer Mr. Wilson's job as our Ambassador much more difficult."

Bucky had no idea what Xavier had meant by "your peer Mr. Wilson", but it was too late to ask questions.

Both Xavier and Frost were gone.

From Anchorage, Bucky filed the following encrypted text report to Fury two days later: "Evidence suggests Logan in Prudhoe Bay. Visual confirmation impossible. Mission incomplete. Feed me another name, Nick. This one's off-limits."

Sam Wilson was brought into the SHIELD fold at the same time as Barnes, but his assignment was almost the polar opposite.

Where Bucky worked in the shadows, unknown to anyone but Fury and to a lesser degree, Rogers, Wilson was highly visible. He had been appointed SHIELD's Mutant Affairs Liaison, with specific orders to be the face of Homo sapiens on the exclusively mutant island of Genosha. He was a diplomat, not an assassin.

Wilson himself was not a mutant, nor did he have a particularly high level of experience in dealing with human-mutant relations. Fury had a couple of compelling reasons for his appointment though.

First, although Wilson was a well-adjusted, upright, honest man, with membership in Captain America's "inner circle" as credentials, he bore a deep-rooted sensitivity to being a minority. This characteristic would be very helpful in establishing rapport with the "Big Three" of Genosha-Charles Xavier, Erik Lenshurr and Namor Mackenzie. Sam knew what it was like to be treated with exception because he was different.

Second, although he personally visited Genosha twice a month to offer aid, negotiate and generally try to establish some sort of loose partnership with the three, he didn't need to actually be on the island to keep tabs on how things were going there. He had his own network of spies to assist him with his Genosha Intel.

The birds.

Monitoring the island with a live-in contact was out. Too many ways to hide things, and risk of offending the inhabitants made this option not feasible. Given Xavier's gifts for telekinesis, electronic bugs and psychics were out too.

But that gently soaring flock of osprey that circled majestically around the island each morning saw everything. The mutant residents loved them, and some had actually taken to naming their favorites. They swooped over the growing community, perched on open window sills begging for handouts, and darted in and out of the natural caves found on the island.

Then they told Wilson everything that they saw.

Interpreting this information was where Sam truly shined. Birds do not have words for many things that human beings take for granted. So, "noisy, big…in big cave" may have been a generator to supply the burgeoning Genosha community with power-or it may have been some new weapon. Sam's gentle probing of the osprey helped clarify their messages.

His skills as a diplomat proved to be valuable as well. Through tough but fair and honest negotiation, Sam managed to secure steady supply lines to the Island from the U.S, in exchange for constant and current updates on who had recently moved to, or away from the island.

There was still a great deal of work to be done. Many of the island's inhabitants were considered to be International criminals. Lenshurr was a mystery all in himself. Traditionally, his ego drove him to grand displays of his power over magnetism. Yet, Sam saw no evidence of ether the ego or the power in his visits. Lenshurr still supported an agenda of complete takeover by Homo Superior, but his verbal participation was mostly in support of Mackenzie's more strident and aggressive rhetoric. Sam wondered if Lenshurr was in fact still a mutant-but that was entirely speculative.

Additionally, not every mutant in the world bought into the concept of Genosha. Sam knew from SHIELD files that a group of five of Xavier's former students were headquartered in San Francisco, and that their relationship with Xavier and his cohorts was strained. Others were scattered throughout the world. Fury was attempting to pin all them down, and undoubtedly, similar efforts were taking place on Genosha, in spite of the fact that this was never discussed.

Each smaller question of this nature was flavored by the decades of mistrust between humans and mutants. It was palatable on the island and in the States as well. The current peace was a tenuous one.

With this environment as a backdrop, Sam really wasn't surprised when Xavier contacted him to come to Genosha to "discuss matters of grave import" about a year after his regularly scheduled visits had begun.

No one from Genosha had ever proactively asked for Sam to make an appearance outside of his planned trips. He actually saw it as a sign of progress. It meant they were trusting him more, relying on him as a confidant. All of these optimistic thoughts vaporized when he sat down in Xavier's office on Genosha.

As always, Lenshurr and McKenzie were present. Although Xavier seemed to be the overall leader of the island contingent, he was never away from the other two that Sam had ever seen. They were his leadership team, his Chiefs of Staff. All of them were seated around Xavier's desk, wearing "business casual" rather than their more colorful costumes, and grave expressions.

"I'll be blunt, Mr. Wilson. Your organization is harassing mutants in various locations outside of Genosha, and we want it stopped immediately".

Sam was genuinely surprised. Fury had never told him about Barnes' presence as a SHIELD agent, or anything about the covert assignments the he was undertaking. By Fury's reasoning, it wasn't "need to know".

"Charles….Erik, Namor", Sam's eyes scanned the three of them; "I have been very honest with you in detailing my contact with other mutants. And I will once again assure you that beyond two trips to visit the five in San Francisco, I have not proactively sought out anyone. My focus, as I have stated many times, is here".

It was Xavier's turn to be surprised, although outwardly it registered only in an arched eyebrow. His tone softened. "Sam…we know it wasn't you. Your superior officer has sent at least one other out to hunt down some of our missing flock…for what purpose, we don't know. I had initially assumed that you were aware of this, but I now understand that you were not".

Sam had come to understand that the mild tingling in his hypothalamus when he was near Xavier signified that his mind was being probed.

"…having said that", Mackenzie broke in, "we _would_ be very interested in knowing what you intend to do about it!" He shot a sideways glance at Xavier that contained a flickering of contempt.

Xavier returned the glance, and clasped his hands in front of his face. "Yes Sam, I agree with Namor. We understand that this is new information for you… but this cannot continue. All of us-and you especially-have worked very hard at….building a relationship here. Covert activities such as this do nothing but undermine that effort. Now that you are aware of the situation, what plan of action do you have?"

Sam studied each of the faces around the table. Mackenzie to the right, with a hard, piercing stare, arms folded across his chest. Lenshurr to the left, also with an unbroken gaze at Sam, but more of an expression of curiosity. Xavier, immediately across the table from Sam, with an expression that seemed to implore, rather than demand, a response.

"Well", Sam began, "I need to process this…the obvious first step will be to find out what I can from Fury. I don't think it's fair of you all to assume that there was bad intent in what happened. He may have just wanted to talk to the ones he was tracking. ..He may not have been tracking them at all; the agents may have been acting on their own…'

Namor snorted loudly. Sam was pretty sure it wasn't due to a respiratory problem.

Lenshurr spoke up, "We're not getting anywhere by ignoring facts. The agent that we know of was Bucky Barnes-of whom we are also aware, has quite a long resume' of …let's call it 'creative mayhem'. Charles found him in the same small village as one of our most powerful 'lost sheep'. If Barnes' intent was to eliminate this individual, Charles did him a tremendous favor by intervening. The man would have killed Barnes with minimal effort and even less compunction. "

Sam was in fact processing this-although it didn't show outwardly. Were the three of them lying? Was Fury lying? Who was the agent, and for that matter, his mark?

Xavier's voice was in his head. "Sam, we are presenting you the truth as we know it now. As you no doubt have sensed, Erik and Namor are very unhappy. Please say something. I might not be able to control them alone."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement of Xavier's telepathic plea. "Ok, I'm heading back to the States today. I'll do my best to get some answers from Fury, and present your position. But I do have one question", He directed this at Xavier, "If this is such a crisis, why don't you just have a little mental chat with Fury yourself?"

It was Mackenzie who responded, the words dripping with contempt, "Our resident peace-keeper thought it would send a 'bad message' ". He gestured at Xavier.

Xavier exhaled deeply. "Sam, we have a very loosely defined set of rules for engagement, you and I. I believe that it is important for you and your superiors to understand that we are playing by those rules. Please make certain that you and those you represent are as well".

Six hours later, Sam and Fury were reviewing the situation on a park bench next to the Potomac River. SHIELD Tech had revealed this as a bug-free area. The bench was far enough off of the main footpath that their conversation escaped the ears of the occasional passer-by.

"Yeah, Barnes has been doin' some scoutin' for me…and yeah, he apparently had an 'incident' in Alaska".

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who was he chasing...and why?"

"Logan. And no, his assignment wasn't ta kill him. Do ya think I've lost it completely, Wilson? Logan can't be killed, at least not with anything less than a nuke. "

"Sooo…?" Sam added an exaggerated shrug.

"Yer oversteppin', Wilson. Let Xavier an' his choirboys know that it won't happen again. That's what I have for ya."

The conflict was frustrating for Sam. When Fury said it wouldn't happen again, he could make bank on it. But Fury was hiding something. And that pissed Sam off.

"Nick, my job is hard enough. I need a little transparency here. What's going on?"

" Sam…I've…SHIELD's got irons in th' fire internationally that you couldn't even guess about. So many of 'em in fact, that sometimes I fuck something up…like the Logan deal. Let me worry about th' big picture, OK? You can send Xavier my assurances that known mutants will be let alone from here out. I'm jeopardizin' the progress of a couple other projects to make that compromise. Hope you and he both see th' win there".

They stared at each other grimly for several moments. Finally Sam sighed.

"They won't believe that you weren't trying to kill him. How do I respond to that?"

"Tell 'em that I wanted ta make him a SHIELD agent. 'Cause that's th' truth".

Sam's head tipped back in laughter. "Let's see if I got you figured out now. If you put all the crazies on your payroll, you won't have to go haul them in-is that the strategy?"

Fury guffawed, emitting a cloud of cigar smoke. "What, you don't think that'll work?"

Sam's grin melted into a more serious expression. "Look…I know you've got something else cooking here, and it's also pretty clear that you aren't gonna tell me what it is. OK, fine, you're the boss. I can sell the concept of Logan as a SHIELD agent, so that'll solve the current situation. But I've got no problem with letting you know that this whole thing makes me verrrry nervous, Nick. I feel like I'm working blindfolded."

Fury watched the sun set majestically over the Potomac. "We're in the spy business, Sam. Most of the time that means we all make big decisions blindfolded. If you've got reservations about that, mebee this isn't yer line o'work…"

Wilson stood up from the park bench. "Maybe not. Tell you what…if Charlie and his big, bad mutant tribunal blow up the Eastern Seaboard, feel free to can me on the spot."

Fury rose as well. "Could happen".

Sam shook his head earnestly. "Not on my watch".

"Back to Genosha with my humble apology, then?"

"Yep. I expect to be there a few days . Xavier will accept this. But, I'm at square one again with Lenshurr and Mackenzie. I may need to make some concessions that I hadn't planned on".

"I trust yer judgment on that Sam."

"Wish I trusted yours as much, Nick. I'll keep you posted." With that, Sam turned and walked into the lengthening shadows.

Fury remained, deep in thought. Sam would know soon enough why Fury hadn't been completely straight with him about Logan. That there would be a new Avengers, a team that Sam himself wasn't invited to join, but that Fury was combing the globe looking for others that were a better fit. That might be enough for Sam to quit on the spot. And then Nick would have to kill him. Fury wanted to put that off for as long as he possibly could.


	3. Chapter 3

NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 3-DANGEROUS LIASONS

After parting with Barton in Sparks, Steve Rogers had a three hour car trip to Las Vegas followed by a five hour flight to Orlando, then two more hours by car to Talladega, Florida to meet with John Storm again. The travel time gave him plenty of time to think.

The failure to land Barton frustrated him…he had hoped to have the new Captain America in place to use as a selling point when he re-pitched the Avengers concept to Storm. John himself was proving to be a very tough sell, and this wouldn't help.

Success in general hadn't come as easily to Steve in the past few years as it had previously. The physical changes that were diagnosed the prior year were certainly a big part of it, but his outlook and worldview had been evolving long before he knew he would have to give up being Captain America.

Steve thought of this as being pragmatic-others around him saw it as a cynicism that none of them believed he was capable of. The fact was, he had grown very tired of being an anachronism. The values that had guided him to so many victories during the 30's and 40's were no longer relevant, or even particularly valid.

Steve was always aware that America sometimes does sneaky and not very altruistic things to get what it needs. In his younger days, the end always justified the means. For liberty and freedom to be preserved, well…sometimes you had to do things that you weren't very proud of.

What Rogers was realizing recently was that nobody but him really cared anymore. Most U.S. citizens likely imagined that their Government did far worse things than it really did. Threats like The Red Skull, Dr. Doom, and Hydra didn't seem very tangible to the guy who had a family to feed and no work for months on end. After decades as the living symbol of the American people, he found that he couldn't relate to any of them anymore.

Maybe it was that last Avengers Team that he led to oblivion that ultimately pushed Rogers to his current mindset. He, Barnes, Barton, Wilson, Rick Jones in the guise of Nomad, Rogers' former lover Sharon Carter, and an unstable but highly dedicated operative named Dennis Dunphy seemed to be the only heroes left that had the will or the interest to fight anymore. Their final battle (and in fact the final battle in the long, illustrious lifecycle of the Avengers) was a fiasco. It was in this battle that Barton killed Bullseye, sending him into a premature and guilt-riddled retirement. Barnes and Wilson, long at philosophical odds, became more intent on thrashing each other than fighting their common enemies, a loosely-grouped coalition of veteran super-villains that called themselves the Elegant Bastards. Rogers intervened just before Barnes could put a bullet between Wilson's eyes. And most damagingly, Jones and Dunphy both perished. News of Jones' death triggered a relapse in his long time friend and mentor, Bruce Banner. After five Hulk-free years, Banner reverted permanently to his freakish, violent alter-ego, and remains at large to this day.

Sharon Carter implored Rogers for days afterwards to retire, walk off into the sunset while there still was a sunset, so that the two of them could build a quiet, sane life together. When it became obvious that Rogers had no intention of giving up the Captain America persona, she walked away from him for good. Her meritous work for the government had allowed her the right to ask for the favor of a new start in life.

While Rogers passed over Oklahoma at 20,000 feet, eastbound to Orlando, a primary school teacher in Auckland, New Zealand named Daphne Hahn prepared tomorrow's lesson plan. None of her students, or their parents, would ever realize that she once had a different name, and was a close associate of a living legend.

In the aftermath of this personal and professional disaster, Cap refused to knuckle under, continuing for the next couple of years to hunt down the members of the EB alone and disable them one by one. But he was doing it for all of the wrong reasons. He justified his relentlessness by telling himself that they beat his best and his brightest, and he hated them for it.

But that was not entirely true. What really burned inside of him was that he couldn't assemble a team of Avengers that was good enough to succeed. He hated the heroes that wouldn't or couldn't answer his call to arms. He hated Barton for hating himself for doing the right thing. He hated Barnes and Wilson for letting personal ideology get in the way of the overarching goal. He hated Jones and Dunphy for being so overmatched that they lost their lives.

But most of all, he hated the taste of defeat. The media had alternately crucified and ridiculed him for attempting to win a battle he had no business fighting in the first place. The EB were faster, smarter, better organized, and had better technology. Captain America? He was your grandfather's hero.

On the night that Rogers had dispatched the last of the EB, (the former Avenger Triathlon), Fury appeared at Rogers' Brooklyn walk up to offer him the position second-in-command of Fury's reformed SHIELD. He didn't promise that it would be easy. But, he did offer a chance to leverage unlimited government resources to build a team the right way.

The original plan was for Rogers and Barnes to travel the world together, ferreting out former superheroes to evaluate their condition and, if acceptable, offering them a place on the newly-reformed (and SHIELD-controlled) Avengers. Two discoveries altered that plan: The emergence of Rogers' physical deterioration, and the increasingly inescapable realty that Barnes wasn't really quite right in his head.

Steve and Nick talked at great length abut what to do about Barnes. Steve wanted to get him some kind of professional assistance…and definitely wanted him incarcerated while getting it, more for his own good than anything else. Fury on the other hand, saw no particular reason to lock Barnes up, and in fact, thought that his talents and temperament made him uniquely qualified for certain SHIELD assignments. The two never really reached any kind of compromise on the issue, and Steve acquiesced to Fury's higher rank like the good soldier he was. Steve never talked to Barnes directly anymore. Barnes provided Fury with the locations of potential Avenger recruits, and Fury relayed them to Steve. He knew that Barnes was doing other work for Fury as well, and whenever he thought of how unsavory those tasks might be, he quickly forced himself to think of his own formidable list of SHIELD to-do's to settle himself.

Fury had never intended to keep information about operatives from Rogers. (or from Stark , for that matter, as the head of R and D). But the discussions with Rogers about Barnes had convinced Fury that some SHIELD activity may be best kept to him alone. The reasons for this could have been either the nature of the task or the operative involved, bit either way Fury felt that he had little time to engage in moral debate with his first lieutenants.

Barnes was a very good example of this. Peter Parker was another.

Rogers had gone to Queens three times to try to convince Parker to re-join the Avengers. The kid had some very compelling arguments for declining each and every offer. He hadn't worn the costume in two years. He had reconciled with his wife and they had an infant daughter. Not being Spider-Man anymore had allowed enough stability to occur in his life, that he had finally found a niche for his scientific engineering gifts. Parker was one of Tony Stark's blessed beneficiaries when Stark was attempting to give away his fortune before Norman Osborne could legally seize it. The Stark grant allowed Parker to first fund his own research, then open an independent software security business. The product the Parker had produced was so good that the Government contracts he had secured alone would allow him to pay Stark back (if in fact he ever saw him again). Sales to businesses in the private sector kept his family financially comfortable.

Parker was in fact somewhat swayed in his talks with Rogers. His previous membership in the Avengers made him feel like he was a part of something important, and respected-feelings he never had when had worked alone. But there were enough "red flag" conditions in Rogers' offers that Parker knew he should turn them down. He would have to relocate to, of all places, North Dakota. He wouldn't have time to continue to grow his business, so it would need to be sold or liquidated. And most importantly, he would once again be putting his loved ones at risk by playing wall-crawler. He felt a deep, gnawing guilt about doing that to Mary Jane for years. Including baby May in that scenario was just too much to even consider.

A day after Rogers' third, final and somewhat half-hearted attempt to bring Parker into the fold, Nick Fury himself paid him a visit at the research lab in upstate New York that he had set up with some of Stark's funding.

Fury's tone was initially conciliatory, "Look kid, SHIELD respects yer decision. If I hadda wife an' kid, I'd probably do th' same thing…"

Parker seemed slightly defensive, "General Fury, with equal due respect, I really don't care if SHIELD understands my priorities or not. Just please leave me alone. I'm not joining your Avengers. I think I have been pretty clear and pretty straight with Col. Rogers about why that is. Hearing the same pitch from you isn't going to change my mind."

"I'm here with a different pitch, kid. I don't wanna hire Spider-Man . I wanna hire Pete Parker."

"I think we have already sold and installed our best package in the SHIELD network, sir. And please don't call me 'Pete'".

Fury rubbed the three days of beard stubble on his cheeks.

" Ya have, an' accordin' ta my propeller-heads, it's the most awesome piece of security code ever written. But I got a question about it for ya, Pete."

Parker's face reddened. Fury ignored his frustration and took his silence as permission to continue.

"How do ya test it before ya sell it ta someone?"

Parker watched himself pass a pen between his fingers idly. There was hesitation in his voice. "We write some pretty heinous malware. Stuff that your garden-variety hacker hasn't come up with yet.

"Who is 'we', Pete?"

Parker looked up form his pen-twirling exercise to meet Fury's gaze. "Me. I personally write all of the destructive code. Once the product passes testing, the test code is permanently deleted."

"So, nothing on file anywhere…no notes, code strings documented?"

Parker, firmly, his anger rising,"Nope. It's all in my head. Is this a bust? Are you gonna lock me up for not joining Super Friends?"

Fury laughed out loud."God ya got an imagination, Pete. Nah…Hell no. I wanna buy somma yer test malware from ya. Maybe. I got a few more questions, though".

"Yeah-well, I've got a few more questions of my own, General…if you don't mind."

Still grinning, Fury leaned back in his chair and spread his arms open, indicating that Parker could continue.

"When I say this stuff is heinous, I'm not kidding. Some of it could basically bring down every networked computer in the world, whether it was powered on at the time or not. I've gotta know what you would be using it for."

"I don't wanna bring down anything…I want ta spy on someone. Can you do absolutely undetectable spyware?"

"Who?"

"Norman Osborne ta start with. Maybe others."

Parker never batted an eye. "You're flippin' nuts, Fury. You want to hack Normie's network? He's bigger than Gates and Jobs combined now…you know that, right?"

"I could give a shit about his network. I wanna know what's goin' on inside his personal PC."

"And I suppose you have a plan for getting it installed without him knowing it?"

"Not yet-but I have plenty o' options".

"Uh huh…no, actually you don't…unless you've got someone on your staff that is intimate with the inside of Osborne's facilities. And as hyper-secure as his many homes are, any of them would be easier than trying to B and E his Corporate Headquarters."

"It so happens that I do have someone that knows his way around most of Osborne's digs, including his HQ. But 'covert' ain't exactly a word I would use ta describe him. You let me worry about that. My question ta you was, can you build me some spyware that cannot be discovered by any kinda advanced technology?"

"My better judgment tells me to lie to you and say 'no'".

Sensing an opening, Fury grinned again, "But…

"But…" Parker continued…"there will always be risk. New tech is being developed every day. God knows what Normie has cooking right now. With that on the table, I can build you stuff that's less detectable and more efficient than anyone else can. I'll guarantee you that."

"So, we have a deal then?"

"Not by a long shot. I said I _could _build you undetectable spyware. What you plan to do with it gives me the heebie jeeebies. So I have a counter-proposal. "

What was it about these brainiac-types that made them think they could negotiate everything, thought Fury. He exhaled deeply and folded his arms across his chest, listening.

"I'll write your spyware program…and I'll load it onto Normie's machine personally. After that, I destroy the documentation. You don't get to touch it at all. "

"Nope. Outa the question. I have a guy that I wanna have review the code before it's deployed."

"Huh. Take your business elsewhere Fury. If you don't trust me enough to do this right the first time, we've got nothing more to discuss."

"Jeez, Pete. Tony's gonna be disappointed. He was lookin' forward ta workin' with ya on this…"

Parker stared hard at Fury, processing what he had just heard.

"Stop calling me 'Pete'. You are so full of crap, Fury. Tony Stark is in Katmandu or someplace. We're wasting time here. Please leave now, and don't come back."

"Tony Stark _was_ in Istanbul. Today, he's in Manhattan. At the Baxter Building, actually. He's tryin' ta find Reed Richards. And he's on my payroll. "

Parker was beginning t think that Fury was delusional. Senility? Something worse? Should he try to take Fury out himself or contact the business security team?

"Prove it."

Fury shrugged and reached into his shirt pocket, producing what appeared t be a very high-tech, non-commercial cell phone. He pressed a key and put the device up to his ear.

"Stark. Fury. Sorry ta bug ya, I know yer busy…right, that's good, good progress there, man…but I'm talkin' to a kid here that don't believe in Santa Claus anymore…yeah, that's right, I'm at Parker's…yeah, well you science-nerd guys are all a bunch of hard-headed skeptics, as far as I'm concerned…right, but maybe he'll listen to ya better than he did me…OK, thanks…" he handed the phone towards Parker.

Parker's eyebrows arched as he listened to a familiar voice on the opposite end of the call.

"Peter, are you there?"

"Y-yeah…Tony?"

"Yep. Hey, listen…Fury is a crazy old shit…truthfully; I don't listen to half of what he says. But I will tell you that the only reason I am here is that when he tells me he wants to stick it to Osborne, I believe him. And I believe he can do it. With our help. That means a helluva lot to me; I'm assuming it does to you as well."

"Taking Normie down would make my life a lot easier, that is for sure…do you trust him?" This asked while glaring across the desk at Fury.

"Enough man, enough. Look, I don't know what he's asking you to do exactly, but you don't have to sign up for his whole package. I didn't. Once Osborne is out of the way, I'm gone. You can do that too, Peter. He obviously needs something from you or he wouldn't be there. You control the negotiation, not him. But he's handing us a pretty rare opportunity here."

Parker realized that Stark was right. Individually, no one, not Fury, not Stark, not Parker himself could mitigate the potential threat that Osborne represented. But in collaboration….Parker swallowed hard. If this was all on the level, it was big. Really big.

"O…O…Ok Tony. I appreciate the feedback. Sorry we bugged you when you're busy. "

"Not a problem, man. I was about to go into the Negative Zone. Believe me when I tell you, I am in no hurry. It's good hearing your voice, Peter. I hope we can work together."

Parker asked for, and received a secured server address from Stark, and told him to check it the following Monday and let him know what he thought. He then pressed "End" on communications device and handed it back to Fury.

"I'll pass what I have come up with directly to Tony next Monday. He can review it and return it to me at his leisure. Once we have something we both like, I'll let you know when I'm ready to go plant it. In return for this, you have to promise me that no SHIELD personnel, including yourself, will visit me, e-mail me, or send me a postcard from the Poconos…ever, ever again. Save the taxpayers' money for something more worthwhile. Those are my terms. Take them or walk out now. "

"Are ya sure ya wanna go into Osbone's yerself ta install it? I didn't ask for that…"

"Yep. I have a couple of reasons for that. One, what I am building is volatile and dangerous. I don't want anyone but me handling it until after it's on Normie's machine…"

Fury rolled his good eye towards the ceiling in derision. "And Two?"

"I'm so excited about personally sticking it to Normie that I am about to wet my pants." No smile from Parker here at all. He wasn't kidding. He was 100 % in on this maneuver now.

Fury laughed. "I assume that Spidey has at least a high-level strategy for invading Fort Osborne to plant this thing."

"No. But Venom does."

For the first time that day, Fury got worried. He knew at that moment that this was a partnership that he should not share with Rogers.

It wouldn't be the last time that Parker made him nervous.

7


	4. Chapter 4

NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 4-TEAM TOGETHER, TEAM APART

Time passed. Faster in some locales than in others.

Steve Rogers 'horse ranch, located between Bisbee, North Dakota and the Canadian border, was starting to take shape. The main house and the two existing barns were almost completely renovated. Two new outbuildings had been framed and would be finished within the year. Land had been cleared, tilled and planted.

The work crew that was responsible for this transformation was growing too. As each day passed, they bonded, came to rely n each others' unique skills, built up a level of trust. It was these men and women who would be Fury and Rogers' re-formed Avengers, and it was no accident that their first act as a team was to create their new headquarters.

Both Fury and Rogers were front-line military veterans who understood why teambuilding was important, and how to do it right. They also both understood the daunting task ahead of them. No single apocalyptic event caused the current dearth of active, fighting superheroes. Like erosion, it had happened over time. The death of a loved one here, an outcry of criticism from an unappreciative public there, maybe an occasional thought that the bad guys were actually right all along, and before long, many of the familiar "name" heroes had either vanished into obscurity or found other, less dangerous and depressing ways to keep their names in the headlines.

Simon Williams and his wife/agent Carol Danvers were two of the fastest rising power brokers in Hollywood. They were in ongoing talks to acquire one of the existing studios and start making their own big-budget movies. Matt Murdoch fell down a well of clinical insanity, taking Wilson Fisk with him. The two still battled daily, but with Fisk removed as the Kingpin of New York crime, no one but the two of them cared about the stakes, or the outcome. The bullets of a hired assassin ended the lives of Sue, Franklin and Valeria Richards. The demise of the Fantastic Four soon followed the remaining members too heartbroken to continue.

The Xavier /Lenshurr/McKenzie axis on Genosha united most of the world's Mutant population, but alienated others. Five of them resided in a historical brownstone in San Francisco, owned by Warren Worthington III. These five, (which included the remaining living members of Xavier's first class of students), believed that it was they, not the much larger Genosha contingent, that best exemplified Xavier's original vision of peace and acceptance. They worked tirelessly, if somewhat grimly, to be the embodiment of that vision.

Three more of Xavier's former disciples settled in New Orleans, embracing that city's legends and cultural fascination with the occult. One of these three could legitimately be called a vampire- the other two cloaked their mutant abilities in a haze of mysticism and Bayou mythology to accumulate personal wealth and local prestige.

The most dangerous mutant on earth simply got tired of the political complications of being different. He shaved his head, reclaimed his birth name and took a job wildcatting on the Alaska Pipeline. Bucky Barnes was not the first to attempt to coax Jim Howlett back into the mainstream. However, the man many considered to be the most dangerous mutant in the world rejected all overtures and claimed nothing but absolute joy in the "normal' life he had found on the outer borders of the Arctic. He had not bared his claws, literally or figuratively, in years.

Jessica Drew and Natasha Romanov, previously two of SHIELD's most dangerous deep cover operatives were officially classified as "whereabouts unknown". Fury himself claimed to have no idea what happened to the pair, and Barnes' considerable talents in tracking had not yielded even a hint.

And yet for all of that, Fury and Rogers had still found enough former heroes that were willing to give their craft one more try:

Janet Van Dyne, free at last physically and emotionally from her toxic relationship with Henry Pym, was a smart, experienced and highly motivated Field Leader. Additionally, her talents in interior design were the largest factor in making the new North Dakota Headquarters livable. SHIELD had installed the needed technology, but Jan had made it a home. Many had scoffed over the years at her lack of "world beating "powers. The media had continuously and erroneously labeled her as the Avengers resident victim and publicity sponge, more at home on E! Network than in life-and-death struggle. But Rogers held her in his highest regard. She was an Original Avenger, which meant that her tenure was greater than even his own. In that time, he could think of no one who had sacrificed more personally to serve the same public that trivialized her to this day.

James Rhodes, who was ready enough to pick up the Iron Man legacy on a permanent basis, that he resigned his commission as Colonel in the US Army without hesitation when Rogers first approached him. Rogers was thrilled with the idea of Rhodes as Iron Man. In his own unspoken opinion, Tony Stark may have invented the armor, but it was intended to be used by men skilled at warfare, not drunken billionaire flight risks. That Stark hadn't killed himself or leveled an entire city in his tenure as a self-appointed centurion was a source of amazement for him. He trusted Rhodes much more, and was looking forward to helping him become the best Iron Man that could exist-not though technical upgrades, but through the character and operational intelligence of its wearer.

The armor itself was the last upgrade Stark had performed before his disappearance. It had appeared mysteriously one morning in the overgrown back lawn of the long-abandoned Avengers Mansion in New York, and was held by Army Intelligence until Fury had used a combination of legal writs, threats and executive escalations to get it remanded to SHIELD. It was so much more advanced that anything Stark had previously created, that even a veteran flyboy with prior Iron Man experience like Rhody had a learning curve with it. But, living up to Rogers' expectations of him, Rhody was mastering the wearable weapon in short order.

Ben Grimm and Jennifer Walters were recruited for similar reasons. Both were needed in the mix to provide the team with much-needed muscle. Both were found by first Barnes, then Rogers, adrift and aimless after the devastating events that led to the end of the Fantastic Four.

Grimm was the last member of the Four to leave the Baxter Building for the final time. John Storm had made some rather quick decisions about the course he wanted his life to take, and had moved away shortly after his sister Sue's death. Grimm and Reed Richards stayed on for several more months-Richards sinking deeper into depression each day, Grimm helpless to do anything about it. At first, Richards had tried to bury himself in his scientific research, but eventually, he simply stopped getting out of bed each morning. It was at that point that the two ceased speaking to each other. Still, Grimm remained, not wanting to leave his grieving lifelong friend, but knowing he couldn't do anything for him by remaining. Each day, Grimm would locate Richards, usually in his bedroom, on the Baxter Building's security monitors, and watch him until late into the night. There finally came the morning when the monitors could not pick up Richards at all on the premises. After several scans to ensure that he had not missed anything, Grimm packed a few personal belongings, left his security clearance on a nightstand in his own quarters, and rode the elevator to the lobby for the last time. Rather than question his friend's whereabouts, he felt strangely relieved to be through with the burden of keeping watch over Dr. Richards. He hoped that he wasn't dead-but was too emotionally wrung out to investigate further.

Barnes sent Fury Grimm's coordinates on Yancy Street-the hardscrabble neighborhood where Grimm had grown up. Rogers found him in an alley a block from the apartment he had taken there, pummeling a man who looked to be a common street thug. Convincing Grimm that he had a higher calling than beating up numbers runners was a pretty easy sell for Rogers. Grimm had dealt with more adversity that most during his life, and he always dealt with it by redoubling his resolve to do the right thing. Rogers offered him the chance to do this in a forum that befitted his superhuman power, once again.

Doing the right thing was foremost in Jen Walters' mind as well. Unlike Ben Grimm, she had options that had nothing t do with brute strength. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried before to use her law degree-she had periodically stepped aside from the superhero lifestyle to emerge as a struggling, albeit visually striking defense lawyer. Sadly, her past attempts as jurisprudence had always ended quickly, either from lack of success or boredom, and Jennifer went back to the purple spandex. Rogers discovered that her most recent efforts at law practice took a very different tack. Barnes had found her name on the roster of Junior District Attorneys in the Brooklyn, New York Municipal Court System. Based on online profiles and the exposure of other, more proprietary documentation, Walters was now specializing in the prosecution of "gifted" alleged felons, instead of defending them as she had in the past.

As he had with Grimm, Rogers appealed to Walter's sense of doing greater good in his pitch to join the new Avengers. She proved to be a tougher sell than Grimm however, and he eventually had to promise her the opportunity to work with the remaining living members of the Fantastic Four. This made his own recruitment of John Storm, and whatever work Stark was doing to locate Reed Richards especially crucial. These potential members were linchpins to the success of the entire roster.

Rogers didn't know much about Luke Cage, and his family. He had reviewed SHIELD background files on Cage and his wife, Jessica Jones. Both seemed to be very "street level" individuals-having at various points in their lives dabbled in mercenary activities, drug abuse and prostitution.

Rogers had always believed in second chances-he himself had been brought back from death and it had left an indelible impression on him. But he was very much in "wait and see" mode with these two. Fury himself had recruited them, and had personally bright they and their infant son to the North Dakota ranch to settle. He also had some very unusual instructions for Rogers on how the family would interact with the overall team. Although both adults possessed above normal strength and invulnerability only Cage would be an Avenger. Jones bore some extremely deep psychological scars from her days as a costumed adventurer, and was determined now to be a career wife and mommy. She and Cage both saw the rural setting of the new Avengers Headquarters as a way for their child to be raised in peace, while Cage continued to exhibit his considerable skills, only now as a member of the SHIELD based team. Fury and also told Rogers that Cage was " On th' surface, he's a tough , street-smart MF that ya really don't wanna mess with- but look beyond that, if ya can, an' you'll see he got th' character ta be an important part of th' team". Rogers himself didn't see why Fury was so enamored of Cage, and was skeptical that he could function as a part of a coordinated team effort, rather than working solo-but, he trusted Fury's innate ability to judge a person's reliability, and Cage's power was beyond question. Rogers would be watching Cage and Jones closely, but for now they were full-fledged members of the farm "family".

Rogers had returned somewhat triumphantly from Talladega. He watched John Storm's press conference on ESPN while he updated the team roster on a SHIELD issued laptop. Storm looked intense, but then he always looked that way, since his sister's death. Losing Sue and his niece and nephew seemed to suck the fun out of Storm. The happy-go-lucky Human Torch of days past was replaced by a, hyper-focused auto racer with a thirst for the jugular of any competitor. He throttled wide open, eschewed all but the most necessary pit stops and took risks.

One NASCAR competitor, a man with an impressive body of work himself, was famously quoted as saying that Storm ought to be forced to race on rims with a half-pound of sugar in his gas tank.

Storm once publicly stated without blink or twitch that his goal was to master every form of racing-Grand Prix, NASCAR, Funny Cars, Rail Dragsters, and any type of motorcycle challenge you wanted to put in front of him. Power boats were in scope as well. In a very short time, he had built John Storm Racing into one of the well-run and successful racing teams in three different divisions of motor sports, and was working on conquering more. He grew a flowing beard, bristled when he was called Johnny, and never, in spite of various requests, bribes, and blackmail attempts, and flamed on.

Johnny Storm was the Human Torch, a pop culture icon from a former time. John Storm was a successful business man with a thing for fast machines.

As Rogers and thousands of others peered at screens in homes, and cocktail lounges, the here-and now version told the world via the miracle of television that he was retiring from active racing, to "investigate some new opportunities". He would continue to own John Storm Racing, but the day-to-day operations would be handled by his best- in- field management team. He spoke extemporaneously without notes, and did not stay to respond to questions from the press when he was finished.

About half of the press corps followed Storm and his bodyguards outside to the parking lot of the JSR Corporate Offices. The ESPN cameras caught him turning briefly to his chief of security to utter a few words. The security head appeared to have ordered his crew to stand down while Storm continued to walk though the lot by himself. When he had reached an area of the lot that was relatively free from vehicles and people, he stopped, turned to face the approaching crowd, and burst into flame. The camera followed him as he arose into the cloudless East Florida sky, and stayed with him until he completely vanished from view.

In the living room of the North Dakota farmhouse, Rogers laughed appreciably. Storm had exited with flair, indicating that there was some life left behind his dour demeanor. And he hadn't revealed anything about the operation or his role in it, which meant he was committed. Good signs.

A few hours later, Rogers was in the Taurus again, this time for the relatively short drive to Bismarck to pick up a disguised Storm at a local consignment shop, just as the transition plan had stated. The new Avengers had officially added a member.

As John Storm made his way west, two of the existing members of Fury's team were in New York as part of Tony Stark's eclectic task force assigned to find Reed Richards.

Stark was heading up the operation. Ben Grimm and Jennifer Walters had come from the North Dakota farm at Fury's behest to provide muscle. It was known that there were still living entities in the Negative Zone that were less than welcoming to intruders…remnants of the time when the Zone was used as an area of confinement for super-powered criminals…and for all anyone knew , Richards may have been abducted by one of them. Or worse.

Henry Pym had gone to New York with Stark from Baltimore to address any medical issues that Richards may have once they found him, and if he was in fact alive.

The fifth member of the task force was Dr. Adam Abraham…one of the world's leading practical theorists on addiction recovery. He was there to try to pull Stark out of the relapse that started with Norman Osborn's hostile takeover of Stark International.

The first three weeks had been anything but exciting. Stark had very quickly assessed Richards' Negative Zone portal and had mastered its use. He had also found motorized video apparatus that appeared to be designed by Richards to launch into the Zone as monitoring tools.

The group suffered a minor setback when they initially launched the five existing devices. The cameras were destroyed within the first hour of their use in the Zone by something or someone that none of them could detect.

It had taken Stark and Pym a half day to rebuild the monitoring units and add cloaking to them, but it was worth the effort. Once cloaked, the devices were left alone by whatever had vaporized the originals.

The five search team members had been sitting in front of tablet computer monitors 14 hours a day for two weeks, scanning the Zone for signs of Richards. In between these sessions, Dr. Abraham counseled Stark. Stark hadn't had a drink since doctor had arrived, a stretch of sobriety that was his longest in over a year-but he showed no enthusiasm for the counselor's recovery program, repeatedly telling him that he was sitting for it only because Fury insisted on it. The overall routine was getting less enjoyable with each passing day. Little progress could honestly be reported in either the search for Richards, or the redemption of Stark's piece of mind.

Early in the third week, a breakthrough occurred in the former task. When Jennifer Walters yelled "Guys, I really think I've got something this time!" the response was enthusiastic, but tempered. All of them had suffered false alarms over the past couple of weeks, and none wanted their hopes dashed again.

The remaining four members of the search party crowded behind her as she zoomed the high tech camera apparatus from the touch screen of her tablet computer. What they saw raised the first genuine hope in each of them since they had begun this task.

On a barren planetoid about the size of Pluto, a humanoid form appeared to be lying against a tall rock formation. As the camera zoomed in tighter, it began to be clear that this form's appendages were markedly longer that normal, as if they had been stretched. Closer detail revealed multiple wounds- 2nd and 3rd degree burns, and open abrasions, some of which appeared to be infected. Finally, as Walters brought the camera about to the head of the wounded form, the five agreed that they were in fact looking at Dr. Reed Richards.

Eyes not moving from the image on the laptop screen, Stark began peppering Walters with questions.

"Did you get vitals?"

"Yep, the sniffer picked them up before I could get a visual. He's alive, Tony."

Hank Pym was reading the vitals on the screen overlay." He won't be for long. Breathing's very shallow, pulse is weak. He may lose that left leg, it's pretty mangled. We need to get on this now".

Stark's questioning continued, "Coordinates?"

'In the lower left corner of the screen, if you would just look there."

Shaper in tone now, "Didja save 'em, Greencheeks? 'Cause ya know, he's a little out of the Thomas Guide's justistiction."

"They're on the shared drive so they can be used in the rescue pod". She turned to look directly at Stark. "Asshole."

Ben Grimm spoke up. "Hey Jen, let's go get ourselves ready. We're all a little antsy…a little action'll do us a world o' good. "

Walters turned from Stark to face Grimm. "Yeah…good call, Ben". She arose from her desk chair and walked towards the doorway of the monitoring room. "You're driving, right? "

"Dat's th' plan" Grimm responded, following her out the door with Pym in tow.

Abraham and Stark remained in the room, Stark mopping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his lab coat.

"I should probably get ready too…"

"Why? You're not going anywhere, Tony."

Stark looked at Abraham incredulously.

"Detoxing sucks, doesn't it Tony? Your head is probably pounding right now, and that perspiration that is rolling off of you reeks of scotch. Those are 24 hour symptoms that you are still experiencing two weeks out from your last drink. I'll give you an honest professional assessment here, Tony. You might have one more drunk left in you, but I don't know if you have one more recovery".

"You don't know me very well, Doc…I've done WAY tougher things than this…"

"Uh huh…hold out your right hand, as steadily as you can."

Stark extended his right arm. The fingertips shook.

"You should be strapped to a bed right now, Stark…but because you do have some things going on, I'm going to allow you to join me at a monitor to watch Dr. Pym, Mr. Grimm and Ms. Walters go get Dr. Richards. Your sole other option is that Colonel Fury drops you off at a truck stop in Oklahoma so you can finish killing yourself in the bar… far, far away from the important work going on here. You choose."

Stark shook his head and slowly started towards the same doorway that Pym, Grimm and Walters had exited moments before. When he reached the egress, he turned to Abraham.

"We should probably be in the Communications Center. We'll want radio contact with them as well as the visuals on the monitor. "

"Tony, I know this is eating you alive…but you're no good to Fury, or to yourself, until you get well. I'm not the bad guy here."

Stark tuned and walked through the doorway. After a silent moment, Abraham followed.

A Reno Police Detective had told Clint Barton about John Storm's retirement from racing.

It was apparently a very big deal in Nevada, as JSR had an office in Vegas. At the time however, Clint didn't have the resources to check out the story himself.

CNN, CNBC and AP don't get pumped to the Washoe County Jail.

Clint's Reno adventure had started out quite successfully. Within just a couple of weeks of his arrival at the upscale casino/hotel that had hired him, he had earned himself a spot dealing Blackjack at one of the high stakes tables. The "Whale Tables" were run by dealers that dealt dexterously, charmed players shamelessly, and exuded an unassailable sense of integrity and trust. Clint came through the door with top-drawer abilities in all of these areas. His tips alone totaled more in a week than he had made in any month over the past three years.

Then, the inevitable happed.

Someone recognized his face, or his name, or something…and did the quick dip into recent history to figure out that the ponytailed aging hippy on steroids that was becoming a rock star in local gaming circles was the same Clint Barton that allegedly went rogue from the last known Avengers team and murdered a fellow costumed freak in cold blood. That was how the media reported it at the time…and the court of public perception hadn't budged much in that viewpoint since then.

Neither had the CIA. They ordered Reno police to hold Barton for extradition, and promised to have resources sent to bring him to New York to face charges "by the end of the month".

While John Storm was literally and figuratively flaming his adoring public in the realm of racing, Clint was being booked, printed and led to his temporary home 20 miles outside of Reno in the Nevada desert.

The Reno cop that led the arrest effort was a transplanted native of Detroit named Dave Tedrow. Lieutenant Tedrow was one of those jaded, cynical cops who honestly thought he had seen it all until he found himself locking handcuffs on the wrists of one of his personal heroes. He had arrested plenty of people that he felt in his gut were either innocent or a victim of circumstances-but never in his wildest dreams did he think he would have this feeling while booking Clint Barton-Hawkeye, Goliath, Ronin, lifetime Avenger and hero to millions.

Barton was in Tedrow's office, hands heavily taped and manacled behind him feet shackled to the legs of the wooden chair that he sat in. Tedrow had heard the possibly acrophical stories of Barton freeing himself from heavy security with nothing more than a severed fingernail as a weapon, and he didn't want to take any chances. He had sent a detail to Barton's suite at the hotel where he worked, and they had found very little of interest; a couple of changes of civilian clothes, motorcycle leathers, some common personal items. No sign of anything that could remotely be considered weaponry. One of the detail also handed Tedrow a business card that was found on the nightstand in the bedroom. The card was blank, except for an unbroken line of 15 digits. Tedrow held the card up now for Barton to see.

"Wanna tell me about this, Mr. Barton?" asked Tedrow.

Silence. An icy stare, eye to eye.

"Is it a combination of some kind, Clint? A computer IP address?"

Not even a twitch in Bartons' face.

Tedrow leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. He sighed.

"Personally, I think you're gettin' screwed," he confided,' I've had to work with CIA on a couple of occasions in my career, and they seem to to be primarily concerned with meeting budget and headcount. I'm not the greatest detective, but I've gotta believe that trumping up a murder charge against someone as….visible…as you keeps the money allocated, and improves public perception. Whether you're actually guilty or not is a minor detail".

Clint replied impassively, "I did it".

He and Tedrow stared at each other for several moments. Then he spoke again,

"He was flinging broken glass from a building we had damaged in every direction. Every piece he threw stuck someone-an Avenger, a cop, someone just standing there watching…it didn't matter to him. Some of them died instantly, severed carotid arteries. Some lost fingers or eyes. I had had enough. I nocked an arrow and ended it. He was dead before his head hit the pavement."

" I've been on the lam ever since, mostly in the Western U.S. Lots of open spaces still left out here, Detective; especially compared to the East Coast. I figured I would get caught eventually. So…here we are."

Tedrow leaned forward again, "Yes Mr. Barton, here we are. I'm afraid you're going to be our guest for a while. The CIA can't commit to when they can be here to pick you up, so it may be a very long while. "

"When do I get to make my phone call?"

"We've been asked…ordered…to waive Miranda with you. No phone call, Clint…sorry."

Barton's shoulders shrugged slightly. "Whatever. Not sure who I'd call, anyway".

The conversation nagged at Tedrow hours after Barton was unchained from the cell and led peaceably to his cell by four Nevada State Troopers in full SWAT gear. Barton looked resigned to his fate. Maybe he was just tired of the pressure of staying hidden. Tedrow had certainly seen that before in long term flight risk cases. But how did the conversation turn to his allotted phone call? The question seemed pointless if he really had intended to not call anyone.

Tedrow's gaze fell again to the business card with the 15 cryptic digits. He went through the conversation in his mind once more. What were the numbers on the card…Barton confesses killing Bullseye…_then_ asks for his phone call. That makes no sense at all. Card-confession-phone call. Card-confession-phone call….Tedrow got up from his desk and shut his office door, so that no one would walk in on him playing what he thought was an insane hunch. Door secured, he went back to his desk, picked up the receiver of his phone, and dialed the 15 digits on the card. His eyebrows arched to their maximum arc when he heard ringing on the other end. They nearly left his head when he heard a voice say "Colonel Rogers speaking…hello?"

10


	5. Chapter 5

**NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 5-THE BAD GUYS**

Nick Fury hustled, because he knew his enemies were hustling. Because he was getting back into the game after a layoff of a few years, he felt like he had to work twice as hard as those he needed to bring down, just to keep pace with them. The President had spelled out Fury's goal very plainly: Eliminate all super-powered threats to the sanctity of the United States, by whatever means needed.

Fury knew two things very well: One of those things was that having agents that could fly, wreck buildings barehanded and beat hopeless odds were better than agents that couldn't do those things. He was working on building that group of agents by tracking down and recruiting every down on their luck, emotionally damaged hero type he could find. Self-proclaimed Gods like Thor, and anything A.I. were out, because they were unpredictable , might bust rank at any time without warning, and nearly impossible to take down after the fact without an expensive and likely very visible mess. But everyone else who ever wore spandex after Halloween was eligible to be in Fury's new Avengers.

The second thing that Fury knew well was espionage. He was building an Avengers team that could punch a hole in anything, and he had very high hopes that his R and D group would someday consist of the most brilliant minds on the planet-but he also fundamentally understood that being stronger and smarter than your opponent only went so far-sometimes you won by being sneakier than the other guy. Fury took great pride in being sneakier than anyone.

He trusted Steve Rogers implicitly, and was hoping to be able to trust Tony Stark to that degree soon. Yet, he had operations in place that he told neither of them about. There were people in the world that the US Government (and Fury himself) had identified as major threats, at least potentially. Many of these people were rich, powerful and highly visible in the overall worldview. Blowing them up, sending in a team of superheroes to flatten them or other acts of overt aggression would escalate quickly into a critical situation that no one wanted. Fury's task was to understand the true nature of each of these potential threats, without arousing suspicions.

For a man with almost no liquid cash flow, Norman Osborne was staying pretty busy. The hostile takeover of Stark's properties, along with the smaller acquisition of Rand Enterprises had left Norman strapped. What was worse, the weapons technology that had brought Stark so much success over the years had vanished with him shortly after Norman had seized his assets. No Production or Beta units, no documentation. Starks' significant efforts in green energy sources were all that remained in his main Long Island facility and the smaller campuses in Huntsville, Alabama, Wichita, Kansas and East Los Angeles. Norman had about as much interest in green energy as he did in green cheese. He wanted Stark's military patents, and anything he could find on the Iron Man armor. He felt like his efforts in grabbing Stark Enterprises were wasted. At first this depressed him, but then he got angry. Very angry. The last time Norman Osborne had gotten this angry, several thousand people including his son, had lost their lives.

It was Dr. Leonard Samson's job to keep Norman's multiple personality disorder in check when he got mad. Samson may have been the busiest person on the OsCorp payroll since the Stark acquisition. He had become a world-renowned authority on multiple-personality disorder since his work with Bruce Banner-but Norman was a different patient altogether. For one thing, Banner's disease was inorganic –it was the result of a very specific incident involving a massive dosage of radiation. Norman's second personality appeared to be deeply rooted in his DNA. For another, Banner's affliction reached beyond the psychological-he actually became a different person in terms of not only personality, but in appearance and size as well. Banner presented Samson with the unprecedented goal of merging the two distinct "people" under one common, governing personality-Banner's rather than his alter ego's. The theory was that if Banner was in control of both personas, he could control the changes back and forth between the two. Though his success was limited in this, he did achieve enough of a breakthrough to capitulate him to the highest levels of prestige and deference within international mental health communities. It was during a tour of speaking engagements that Osborne offered him a ridiculous sum of money to be his personal shrink.

Osborn had laid off most of the Stark Enterprises personnel that he had acquired, once he determined that they knew nothing of any value in regards to Stark's past holdings and inventions. He was in the process of replacing them, many with people possessing strong scientific and research backgrounds, and nothing particularly noteworthy in their criminal records. In short, OsCorp's overall hiring practices looked roughly the same as that of any other large business.

Some key members of his staff however, earned their current positions at OsCorp through their associations with Norman's "other self".

Dr. Karla Soffen actually held the position of Osborn's personal psychiatrist before Samson was brought on board. Her on-and –off personal relationship with Osborn severely compromised her objectivity as an administrator of Osborn's mental health, and she was moved to position of Vice President of Human Resources. Danny Rand was a minority owner of OsCorp due to Osborn's acquisition of Rand Industries, but Norman was already putting forth the events that would oust Rand from the leadership team. The trick, to Norman's thinking, was to strip Rand of his corporate power, but keep him "in the family" to leverage his Iron Fist talents. Otto Octavius was installed as the VP of Research and Development, under a din of great public outcry. Norman stuck to his guns on the Octavius hire, publicly stating that the former Dr. Octopus had paid his debt for past errors in judgment, and was far too brilliant to not be given a second chance to make the world a better place as an OsCorp employee. It was this hire that placed them both squarely in the radar of people who had a stake in the well-being of the United States. Others were more quietly assimilated into OsCorp through the vaguely titled departments of "Corporate Security", "Competitive Analysis" and "Internal Communications". Mac Gargan, Elektra Natchitos, Melvin Potter and the rogue SHIELD agent Jessica Drew , amongst others, all carried OsCorp security badges. Most of this recruitment activity was done with a skillful covertness…Norman and Dr. Soffen were usually the only people, internal or external to OsCorp, who knew the actual identities of these hires, and they intentionally kept documentation to a minimum.

It was a source of irritation to Fury that his window into Osborn's world was so limited. As flaky as Tony Stark was, Osborn's fragile and often violent psyche made Stark look as stable as granite. Fury knew a few things: Stark had managed to cheat Osborn pretty effectively in not leaving behind anything of value when he disappeared, which made Norman really angry. And Norman was broke, which made him really desperate. He also knew of the Octavius hiring. While others viewed that as a controversial event in and of itself, Fury saw it as the tip of the iceberg-but thus far, hadn't been able to turn up any indication hat something else was afoot. Samson and Rand were interesting names, but Fury was somewhat dismissive of their impact as a real threat. He frequently referred to Samson as "Hulk Lite".

It was Fury's resolve that something bigger was brewing at OsCorp that led him to Peter Parker, and a planned covert spying exercise that now involved Venom as well. Fury spent a fair amount of time pondering whether the cure wasn't worse than the disease.

Another rogue SHIELD agent was in Northern Europe, planning her wedding.

Again.

Natasha Romanoff had come by the nickname "Black Widow" honestly…her first three husbands had all met violent, premature and mysterious deaths shortly after betrothal.

That was many years ago, and since then, Natasha had been involved in deeply intimate relationships with several men (and a woman) without fatalities. But she had never considered remarrying, until circumstances placed her in her current lofty status at Castle Von Doom in Latveria.

Few people would have had the skill and audacity to covertly enter the country, walk directly to the front gate of the Von Doom mansion and advise the guards that she was to speak with Victor at once about employment opportunities. Von Doom was so taken by her unblinking tenacity and physical beauty that he made her his Chief of Security that same day. As they worked closely together on a variety of his more ambitious ideas for expanding Latveria's reach and value, his admiration evolved into a close approximation of love. He frequently referred to the day that she accepted his proposal of marriage as "The day my new life began".

All of this occurred months before the face transplant…

Von Doom no longer had to hide behind a ponderous iron mask, thanks to modern LED technology. A lab accident in his youth had left him with deformities that had scarred his face and his soul. In many ways, Von Doom's mangled visage had made him the man he currently was, in both image and worldview. The mask led to full body armor. Over the years, the armor became more heavily armed.

But none of that seemed necessary anymore. With the forced assistance of a Chinese expert in cybernetics, Von Doom created an LED hologram projector that, once installed in his skull, captured his facial motions and "rebroadcast" them, in any visage that he so desired. Skin tone, eye color, the size and shape of the mouth and nose-all of the features of a human face could be adjusted as frequently as its owner desired.

There were drawbacks. The framework for the display, which contained all of the neural connectors that allowed for facial movement, needed to be permanently embedded. This required several hours of intricate and painful surgery. Von Doom insisted on local anesthetics, so that he could remain conscious and advise during the process. Once completed, and the performance of the device met Von Doom's performance expectations, the cybernetics expert suffered an untimely stroke and perished. The Latverian government posthumously awarded the expert the county's highest recognition and sent his body back to China.

In spite of the challenges, Von Doom's life may have never been in a more positive cycle. The sudden death of the Richards family had cleared the largest obstacle to his plans to own large segments of Earth. (Von Doom hopefully assumed that Reed Richards had eventually taken his own life, as no sign of him was detectable anywhere). A soul mate that he did not think could exist had literally appeared from nowhere. And he no longer had to hide behind a false visage-the world could now see him as he truly was-or a t least as he wished to be seen. All of this good fortune did little to dampen his ambition.

The new, more serene Von Doom still saw himself as the most powerful being on Earth. But his strategy for taking what he felt was rightfully his had changed. Many years of direct confrontation with those who would oppose him had taught him the value of diplomacy and negotiation. With his face "repaired", he was now free to exhibit the charisma and persuasiveness that he had always possessed, but had not dared use, because he knew that his physical appearance engendered fear and revulsion. It was simply too vivid a persona to refute with words, or even deeds. After spending so long embracing the monster, he had finally slain it. High ranking officials In Poland, Estonia and Belarus had agreed that forming an alliance with Latveria would be mutually advantageous. Other neighboring countries had taken notice of this, and were making polite inquiries. It was not a small wonder that the U.S. and Colonel Fury were concerned about where these discussions were headed.

As the leader of an emerging world power, Von Doom was quite insistent that his wedding be accorded its proper status as an International social event. Invitations were sent to leaders of approximately 100 nations, including many that had been embittered enemies of Latveria for many years. His press corps had also arraigned for television, radio, Internet and print media coverage equal to that of a British Royal Family event.

Initially, Natasha disapproved of all of this. She had begged Victor for a small, private civil ceremony. Her reasoning was sound-they were both wanted for a variety of serious crimes in various parts of the world-and exposure at this level could mean at best, lifetime imprisonment, and at worst a swift and highly visible double-assassination. Whenever she presented this reasoning to Victor, he always responded with this question-"As my Chief of Security, are you telling me that my own country is not safe for a wedding? " As she never had an acceptable response to this question, she had resigned herself to the fact that the entire world, including Nick Fury, would soon know where she was and what she was doing. And in many respects, that wasn't a bad thing.

One country that had no interest whatsoever in partnering with Von Doom (or sending representation to his wedding) was the island nation of Genosha. The committee of three that lead the "safe haven" for mutants worldwide had enough trouble reaching consensus without adding another strong voice.

The population of Genosha had grown to about 2500, with handfuls more trickling in each month. Although Charles Xavier still combed the world using his Cerebro device, many of the more recent immigrants came on their own, after hearing by word of mouth that there was at last a safe haven for people like them. A small city was growing in the center of the island, and thanks to the efforts of Sam Wilson of SHIELD, raw materials were provided to help make life on the island as modern and comfortable as possible. Everyone had a role to play n the island's development, and these roles were matched as closely as possible to each individual's unique "gift". The present appeared to be a harmonious, rapidly bonding community. But the ability to sustain such a utopia was far less clear.

Genosha's current reality was much more in line with Lenshurr and McKenzie's vision that it was with Xavier's. Both Erik and Namor had preached isolationism and separatism for many years. Additionally, they shared aspirations to extend the reach of the "Mutant only" colony well beyond the boundaries of the island…although Lenshurr was less focused on this than Namor. Once the premier advocate of Homo Superior politics, the recent loss of his genetic command of magnetism had caused him to vacillate between worldviews. One day he preached peaceful co-existence between Mutant and Human, often reflecting genuine regret for some of his past actions. The next day, he was the firebrand of old, vowing to crush anyone who stood between himself and the eradication of "lesser entities" .

No one, not even Xavier, could determine exactly how Lenshurr lost his "gift". He simply awoke one morning, after a typical night's rest, unable to summon the magnetic talents he possessed the day before. There had been no singular event that may have caused it, and Xavier had determined though a full telekinetic exam that it was not psychologically driven. After several days of testing led to the theory that this was a permanent condition, Lenshurr , filled with shame, offered to leave Genosha. Xavier wouldn't hear of it, and convinced him that the safest, and most comfortable place in the world for him to be was with those of his own kind-powers or not. Namor had a more elitist vision of the island's inhabitants, and favored the exit of Lenshurr. Xavier's better judgment won this discussion, leaving Namor in a state of sullen silent dissent. It would not be the last time that Xavier and Namor were at cross-purposes, with Lenshurr acting as the fulcrum that decided an issue one way or another.

Xavier had concerns beyond his mercurial partners. There were still very powerful mutants at large, who tip the delicate current peace with humanity disastrously. Four of his original five students openly rejected his offers to join him on the island. Although this was a mature group that generally made good choices about the use of their powers, their flat refusal to partner with him was deeply and personally hurtful. He laid the blame for this rift directly at the feet of the fifth member of their team, Emma Frost.

Frost had "replaced" the late Jean Gray –both as a member of the original team, and as a romantic partner of the team's leader, Scott Summers. Xavier had long been suspicious of Emma's motives. The timing of her arrival shortly after Jean's death, the uncharacteristic way that Scott had suddenly and wholeheartedly fallen for her, the similarity between her skills and Jean's. All of this remained conjecture on Xavier's part however, as Emma was his equal as a telepath, and his attempts to probe into her past were met with solid resistance. Whet he did know was that he did not trust her at all, and feared her influence on Scott and the other member s of their team.

They moved about freely in San Francisco, helping human and mutants in whatever way they realistically could. No task was too humble for them, and when in the public eye, they invariably expressed nothing but absolute gratitude for the opportunity to serve. Warren Worthington III as CEO of Worthington Industries, had spun off the companies more profitable pharmaceutical ventures , and had plowed the profit back into supporting his teammates, and devoting resources to genetic research. Hank McCoy was WI's Chief of Staff. Bob Drake had matured into the public "face" of the team, the one quoted in media coverage, the one who made the public appearances in behalf of the group. Many, including Xavier and Fury, wondered if it was all too good to be true. Frost was the "elephant in the room" that prevented cynics from accepting the team's good will at face value.

There were other mutants "out there" that worried Xavier as well. Jubilation Lee, Anna Marie Darkholme and Remy LeBeau were together in New Orleans, preying on unsuspecting victims for their material wealth, and ultimately their lives. Lee and Darkholme were both vampires, each in their own way. Through an unfortunate encounter with the medical anomaly named Michael Morbius, Lee became a traditional, blood-feeding creature of the night. Darkholme's ability to drain the life force from another living creature from the touch of her exposed flesh wasn't as visually frightening, but the result was equally devastating. Their victims, always people with some form of personal wealth, were initially charmed by LeBeau-he was invariably armed with a plausible sounding business proposition, or a soulful come-on line. Once he had ingratiated himself with the mark, wills were updated, or other forms of "amicable extortion" were committed. When the material valuables were secured in his name, the donor mysteriously disappeared, having made their last, and largest sacrifice to maintain the pseudo-living state of LeBeau's female accomplices.

Pete Wisdom was the leader of the British counter-intelligence organization M-3. He counted amongst his staff Betsy Braddock and Jean-Paul Beaubier. Like Wisdom himself, both were mutants.

The mutant known only as Cable was buried under 30 feet of silt at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. Xavier was one of two living beings who knew that he was there in a state of stasis to temporarily halt the progression of his disease. No one knew when he might awaken.

Jim Howlett , as we have seen previously, lived bucolically in the most Northern reaches of Alaska, resisting all offers to return to his previous lifestyle-for the moment. Xavier considered him to be the most dangerous wild card of all of them. Fury thought of him as the second-most dangerous.

The ghost town of Juanita, Colorado had its first inhabitant since the late 1800's. Bruce Banner had moved into the abandoned mission that used to be in the center of town.

Any roads that may have once led to the old gold rush village has long since washed out or been buried in decades of landslides. Little vegetation grew in the area , and the wildlife was confined to small insects and reptiles.

Not that Bruce had to worry much about eating. In his current state, he took his energy straight-up. He was a walking Gamma radiation battery.

In the year-plus since he "went green " following the death of Rick Jones, he hadn't gone back to his original physical form. At first, this concerned him, but he was adjusting to it. Now, he just had to convince the rest of the world that it was all OK.

The latest change was different for him. The body was the Hulk, but the brain, and the soul, remained Bruce Banner. It occurred to him not long after the change that what he had now was the best of both worlds. If he could just get himself into a situation where he could be left alone, free from harassment from the military and the public, he could complete the gamma research that he started years before-the same experimentation that changed his own life so radically. If he could distill what happened to him, put some controls around the end results, he would have achieved the culmination of his life's work as a scientist: A stronger, safer, more stable iteration of the Super Soldier serum that had turned Steve Rogers into Captain America during World War II. As he had done many times previously in the past several months, Banner stopped what he was doing and sat down to reflect on the events that had brought him to this point.

Originally, the government had wanted him to work on bombs. Military scientists had seen Gamma radiation as the next logical step in "clean" warfare-devastating to organic matter, but relatively harmless to structures. The residual radiation had a very short shelf life, so target areas could be occupied quickly after a strike. But the Army's propeller heads hadn't foreseen the long term organic results after exposure. Some genetic makeups actually regenerated after death-by-Gamma. Once Banner had proved to them that their "ultimate weapon" would actually produce real-life zombies , the Army and SHIELD put him on a new path: Using Gamma radiation to enhance human capabilities, along similar lines of the Super Soldier serum that created Captain America decades previously. It was during this experimentation that Banner, using himself as a lab rat, consumed the version of the serum that made him the Hulk.

At first, Banner's alter-ego was a living engine of rage and destruction. The Avengers had made several failed attempts at containing him during this period, and at least one of them, the synthizoid Vision, lost his life in these efforts. He was a force of nature during this time, striking randomly and indiscriminately. During his "non-Hulk" moments, Banner managed to hide himself from the US Army, SHIELD, and the Avengers long enough to contritely and covertly seek help from other intellectuals in the scientific community: Reed Richards used the technology that he first tried to revert Ben Grimm back to his normal state, but to no avail. It was in fact Grimm himself who stalled off the platoon of soldiers and SHIELD agents that had surrounded the Baxter Building long enough for Banner to escape, albeit without the cure he so desperately needed. Henry McCoy could isolate the mutated genes inside Banner, something no else had been able to do up to that point , but was at a loss as to what to do with them. Hank Pym was in a mental hospital at the time, unable to conquer his own demons. And Tony Stark was too busy with Senate hearings during the day and marathon nightclubbing at night to give Banner any thought at all.

When several attempts at suicide were thwarted by Banner's emerald alter-ego, he finally turned himself in to Thaddeus Ross, the five-star general who had made finding Banner his sole career goal. Ross had parlayed his Hulk-capturing efforts into an appointment as the Director of SHIELD, and in a show of rare magnanimity ( spurred by the recent media attention paid to his new position), he turned ordered heavy sedation for Banner and turned him over to Leonard Samson.

Samson's approach to curing Banner was psychological rather than biological. Working together, Banner and Samson had determined that:

The prior work by McCoy and Richards had in fact slightly slowed the gamma irradiation in Banner's cell tissue…to the point where he hadn't "Hulked up" since placing himself in SHIELD's care…although his regular schedule of super-strength Ritalin was likely a factor as well. Eventually, he would have to go off of the meds to test his progress, a scary proposition for all concerned.

The Gamma-based Super Soldier serum was just too strong to be viable. The government had moved on to other options in this area while Banner was on his rampage.

Banner was a psychological mess before he injected himself with the serum. He had built a very large catalog of repressed resentments over the years. The violent nature of his alter-ego, Samson felt anyway, was due as much to his scarred psyche as it was to the chemical changes in his body.

Leonard Samson was fascinated with the dual being that Banner had become. He was the Jekyll and Hyde archetype come to life…a schizophrenic so entrenched that he literally became two unique beings. His work with Banner, if properly documented and marketed, would earn him a Nobel. But, he needed a norm, someone who could show that the Gamma dosage was controllable within a human bloodstream. Much like Banner did before him, he offered himself up as his own test case.

Samson's physical transformation was immediate upon his injection of Banner's blood sample. His body mass increased by 50%. His hair and beard grew within minutes, and were the same green tone as Banner's skin when he transformed. His eye color evolved likewise. Later testing revealed that unlike Banner , Samson could in fact be wounded by stronger artillery, but the damage to his body healed completely, usually within 24 hours. He cut his hair and shaved, but the green hair and beard grew back within a similar time period.

Samson' transformation caused a temporary stir in the SHIELD Gamma Testing Facility. Samson was incarcerated in an Adamantium prison a half mile below the facility for three weeks until he could prove that he was not a threat to National Security. Two ironies were evident during this time: The prison that Samson temporarily languished in was built for Banner. And because of the unexpected (and unauthorized) step that Samson took in exposing himself to Banner's tainted blood, General Ross had no choice but to put Banner in charge of the project until Samson returned. Thinking of these two facts made Banner smile, which was a sign of his psychological progress under Samson. Rather than dwell of politics, he focused on what Samson's change had meant to their combined research. Samson was right about the role of mental health-Samson himself was reasonably well-adjusted, and he remained so even after the transformation. How important this was in the overall project was very difficult to determine, because somehow, the effects of the Gamma radiation had become diluted in Banner's bloodstream. Samson had become clearly larger, stronger and more impervious to physical attack, but his thresholds in these areas were still far below those of the Hulk. It became immediately clear to Banner that if he could find out what factors caused the diminished results displayed by Samson, that a Gamma-based Super Soldier was still a possibility.

This was the path that the pairs' research was taking when they received the news that a last-gasp team of Avengers formed by Captain America had been soundly beaten by a team of known super-powered criminals, and than Banner's friend Rick Jones had been brutally murdered in the fight. For the first time in years, Banner transformed, and leapt away , looking as angry as he ever had in his Hulk persona. He had been spotted several times since then, most recently at the now abandoned Gamma Research Facility, stealing what appeared to be random items of little value, but thus far had avoided overall detection of his whereabouts. Of all of the international threats that Nick Fury had to concern himself with, Banner was his Priority One. The team of Avengers that Fury was assembling was being designed with direct confrontation with Banner in mind, and his R and D group, unsuccessful in finding a cure for Gamma poisoning individually, would be tasked with working on it as a team collectively in the near future. In his wildest dreams, Fury imagined Banner being part of that team, but if ending the threat of the Hulk meant killing Banner, he was OK with that, too.

But Banner was far less of an immediate threat than Fury or anyone else thought. There was a lot about the large, green being that was now painstakingly building a makeshift lab in the ruins of a gold rush town, that was very different than either Banner or the Hulk ever were. He needed to understand why.

9


	6. Chapter 6

**NICK FURY'S AVENGERS-PART 6-RESCUE ATTEMPTS**

While Banner pondered his next steps, another Gamma-enhanced hero shared a small space-travel pod with two of her peers. In the tradition of many memorable adventures, they were in a strange land, looking for someone who would play a significant role in their futures.

Open space in the Negative Zone did not comply with Earthy astrophysics. A thin, but breathable atmosphere existed throughout, not just in the near proximity to large land masses. Although a certain degree of weightlessness existed "between planets", it was not nearly as severe as in Earth's universe. An average human being could walk firmly on a surface, but could also push off and free-float with minimal exertion. Although there were stars, none was powerful enough to be a sustainable energy source for a planet. Existence in the Neg Zone was somewhat like swimming without water in the dark at altitude.

Ben Grimm had piloted the craft successfully through the Negative Zone portal in the Baxter Building, and was now navigating through the weird space of the Zone.

Jennifer Walters was setting a course using coordinates that should, if all went well, would lead them all to the semi-conscious Dr. Reed Richards. Henry Pym sat in the rear of the pod, nervously preparing for…what? He really wasn't sure. He just knew that his medical expertise would be needed, if and when they were able to find and recover Richards. It was what might happen between now and that moment that had him fidgeting.

By contrast, Grimm and Jennifer Walters, the Gamma-powered half-sister of Bruce Banner's research partner Leonard Samson, chatted calmly and amiably about her past, and what led her to her current state.

"…cancer. The really scary, inoperable kind." Walters was explaining, "Doctors told me I had six months, and Len came to me with his proposition 19 weeks into that. I was miserable, just hanging on by a thread. The way I looked at it, whether his experiment on me worked or didn't, at least the pain would be over with, one way or another. "

"Jeez…sorry Jen, I never knew that about ya…" said Grimm, with sincerity. " That's just awful…"

"Turned out Ok, though, huh? I mean…check out this bod, right? Do I look like someone losing a fight with Big C?"

Grimm chuckled, for the first time since Walters began telling her story. As it turned out, Samson had not given up the work he and Banner had started immediately later Banner's abrupt departure. That came later, when fame and money lured him away from the things he knew best. At first, he continued to analyze their version Super Solder serum, and Banner's blood samples. There were other human experiments, primarily on unrehabilatible felons that SHIELD had "found" for such work. Each of these experiments ended in death, with at least one of the test cases reanimating grotesquely. As a psychologist, he knew little about genetics, but he reasoned that there must be some reason why his own physiology accepted the radiated blood when others didn't. The situation with his half-sister, battling a terminal disease, slowly emerged in his mind as a logical next step. Although he and Jen were never really that close, especially as adults, he knew that he could sell her on a chance at remission that traditional medicine could not. He just didn't know how he would do that once she arrived. It was at that time that SHIELD introduced him to the replacement they had found for Banner in the project: Hank Pym, fresh off of his recovery from "exhaustion", full to the eyebrows with mood-altering prescription chemicals, and bent n regaining his reputation in the medical community as the best gene researcher in the world. The very same Hank Pym that now sat behind Walters and Grimm in the Negative Zone shuttle. He picked up the story from where Walters left off, explaining that his introduction to the program was Fury's first official act as the re-appointed head of SHIELD, and that he and Walters were transferred to Baltimore from the original Gamma Research facility. Samson was made a similar offer, but instead took a more lucrative contract from Norman Osborn. Pym's ongoing research on Walters' DNA got them closer to being able to tell, with a minimum of guesswork, who could accept the serum without fatal side effects. But more was work was needed, and Fury's goal was to have Pym and Banner work collaboratively to bring the project to the finish line.

Tony Stark and Adam Abraham listed to the story from the audio feed in the main lab of the Baxter Building. That also had a video feed that allowed them to see what the crew of the Zone shuttle could see while navigating the mysterious parallel universe. Stark was at times visibly shaken by what he had heard. He had no idea that Banner and Pym had been so deeply involved in this kind of research, and Walters' story left him with tears in his eyes.

"The world has been moving on while you have been in absentia" said Dr. Abrahams. "A lot of people have figured out how to get by without the great Tony Stark".

As Tony pondered this silently, Grimm's voice came over the feed. "Target locked. We found 'em". Stark and Abrahams could make out the asteroid that the group had previously identified as the one that held the injured Reed Richards. Stark snapped back into the moment.

"Look alive guys. This is waaayyyy too easy. I don't trust it." He spoke to the away team into his headset.

"I'm with ya, Stark", replied Grimm. He no sooner said this than the shuttle began to rock back and forth. Raw electricity arced from the control panel.

"Status! Ben, what he Hell is happening?" barked Stark.

"We're OK in here, Tony. Pym wasn't usin' the safety straps in back, an' bumped his head a little, but he's alright…"

"I got a Bogey at 2 o'clock, coming at us hard. Flying under his own power-no craft, just him- he looks like an entomologist's bad acid trip." Interrupted Walters.

"Annilhus..." replied Grimm…"an old buddy. Prolly would love a little payback for the last time I kicked his ass. I got a bigger concern, though…""

…and then, the screen went blank in the Baxter Building Lab.

"Ben? Jen? Pym? "A touch of panic in Stark's voice, "Hey, do you guys copy? Look, we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. Hellooooo…"

Silence from the audio feed.

"I'll call Fury", Abrahams got up from his seat.

"No! Not yet! I've got this!"

Abrahams turned away from Stark and started towards the door, "Tony, part of getting well is understanding your limits. We don't have the knowledge or the resources to fix this by ourselves. It's OK to ask for help when you need it…"

"Doctor, I said _I've got this!_" It was definitely Stark talking, but different-slightly amplified, and …for lack of a better phase-it sounded broadcast from somewhere beyond the room.

Abraham stopped and slowly turned back around. As he recounted it later, he shouldn't have been at all surprised by what he saw. But at that moment, he was indeed shocked.

He saw before him his latest patient-a brilliant and arrogant man deep in the throes of alcoholism- a man who just hours previously couldn't stop his hands from shaking-dressed in the most sophisticated wearable weaponry on Earth.

Tony Stark was Iron Man again. But that couldn't be possible. Abrahams mentally flipped though the classified SHIELD files he had previously studied before meeting Stark for the first time. Stark had destroyed all of his own armor except the one he had mysteriously left behind at the old Avengers Mansion-and Fury had recovered that one, and re-issued it to some former Army general who was going to be a member of Fury's new team of heroes. Stark had been wearing hospital scrubs a minute ago-and didn't even have a watch or a cell phone, let alone anything looking like Iron Man tech.

Stark seemed to understand his confusion. "Look, Doc-I'll explain this in a lot more detail if…when I get back from the Negative Zone. But I have a lot….a _lot_ of addictions to work though. One of them is a designer drug called Extremis…and this", he gestured to indicate the armor, "is what it does to you. Go ahead and call Fury, tell him to bring that bus ticket to Oklahoma if he has to…but I have some friends that are in a jam, and I need to help them." With that the propulsion process in the armor ignited, lifting him a couple of feet off of the ground. He turned in the air and blasted wordlessly past Abrahams, knocked down the sealed steel door to the room that they were in and flew towards the Negative Zone portal in the Baxter Building's main lab.

While Dr. Abraham was contacting Fury to advise him that his latest client was on his way to the Negative Zone, five men in suits sat in an office at the Washoe County Courthouse in Reno, Nevada arguing over the future of a sixth individual, who was not present in the room.

Steve Rogers was one of the suits, and was seated at the head of a conference room table, arms folded across his chest, listening.

A tall, bulky man in a black suit and sunglasses represented the FBI. He went by the name of Agent Berry.

A tall, slender man in a black suit and sunglasses seated across the table from Barry represented the CIA. He went by the name of Agent Hudson.

The local authorities were represented by the Governor of Nevada, a former casino owner and liquor distributor named Arnie Puckerman, seated at the opposite end of the table from Rogers. It was he who was speaking.

"Personally, I don't care which of you spooks winds up leaving here with Barton. But understand this, gentlemen-I want all of you, including him, gone from the State of Nevada in 24 hours! Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystally" said Agent Berry.

"Or else what?" asked Agent Hudson.

Rogers pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

The fifth man in the room was Detective Dick Tedrow. He stood in a back corner, smoking and sipping cold coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He really wasn't a part of the discussion-but as the man who arrested the dangerous felon Clint Barton, he had earned the right to tag along to see how the negotiations for who had jurisdiction over him were progressing.

Berry redirected the discussion back to this core topic. "Hudson, I don't even know what you're doing here. As far as we all know, Barton has never crossed international lines. This isn't even a CIA issue."

Agent Hudson might have been looking at Agent Berry, or he could have been gazing at the white wall behind him-it was hard to tell through the Ray Bans. "I don't want to incarcerate him, Berry…I want to make him an agent. I'll cut you a deal…give me first shot at him with my job offer. If he absolutely refuses to join The Agency, he's all yours to do with what you please."

Agent Berry's eyebrows arched above his Ray Bans. "You do understand that you are proposing that I look the other way while you waltz out the door with a murderer under your wing, under the pretense of him being a 'new recruit'. I wonder how the American People would react if they knew that was happening."

Agent Hudson snorted, "Probably the same way they would react to knowing how many convicted butchers you people have on your payroll."

Sensing that he would lose this particular confrontation with Agent Hudson, Agent Barry attempted to deflect Hudson's statement by changing both the subject and the opponent.

"You're mighty quiet, Col. Rogers. The table getting a little rich for SHIELD to play on?"

Rogers shook his head slightly and grinned, "I'm actually sitting here marveling at how two absolutely vital branches of our National Defense can be so distanced in philosophy from the people that they were created to serve. Aren't we all in the business of protecting the good guys and catching the bad guys? This isn't the first time I have seen time and taxpayer money wasted on debate over irrelevant issues, but is among the most appalling. If I were President, I would be doing some drastic housecleaning…but since I'm not President, this will have to do." He reached into the breast pocket of his sport coat.

Berry and Hudson stood, hands on their sidearms. From his vantage point in a back corner of the room, Tedrow subtly did likewise, scanning each person for any abrupt movement.

Rogers rolled his eyes to the ceiling and produced a standard sheet of printer paper, folded in thirds letter-style, from his coat. "You trigger-happy kids are going to do yourselves great harm before your careers are over. If I had wanted to take you out, I would have done it two hours ago. "He slid the paper across the fake-wood table. "Sit down and read, if you actually know how."

Hudson snatched the paper from the table, unfolded it and read silently for several seconds. He then turned his Ray-Banned gaze to Rogers, "You sanctimonious bastard" he snarled, "You could have presented this as soon as you got here, but you let us wrangle amongst ourselves for half a day until…"

"…Until I could determine exactly what you both intended to do with Clint Barton", Rogers nodded in agreement," and on behalf of SHIELD, I am grateful for your cooperation".

Berry pulled the paper from Hudson's hands and reviewed it for himself. Without looking up, he muttered "Son of a Bitch".

Governor Puckerman was turning an apoplectic shade of purple, "Will someone explain just what the hell is happening here to those of us who aren't James Bond!?"

"It's a full pardon" said Hudson, flatly.

Berry cleared his throat "A full _Presidential _pardon. How do we know this is real, Rogers?"

"If you would like, we can call the man who signed it to verify. I don't think he'll be real happy with the interruption, though," Rogers eyes were riveted on Agent Berry. "My boss sometimes uses deception to get what he needs. If you know anything at all about my reputation, I don't have to tell you that it's not how I do business…do I?"

Berry handed the document to Puckerman.

The Governor read quickly through it, and turned to Tedrow, still standing in the corner, but now snickering quietly behind his hand.

"Detective", he commanded, trying desperately to recover some authority, "Please release Mr. Barton, with the sincerest of apologies from the State of Nevada. Make sure that all of his personal belongings are returned to him at once. If anything of his was lost or destroyed, see to it that it is replaced, pronto", he then tuned his gaze to the three Federal agents at the table, "You…you…and you…have six hours to be outside of the Nevada border, I don't care which direction that you take. If you can't get a flight sooner than that, rent a car and drive. "

Berry was writing in a note pad, "Yes sir. If you don't mind me asking, sir…'Puckerman'…one 'n' or two?"

"OUT!" yelled the Governor.

Stark landed directly in front of the Negative Zone portal to take a call from Fury and Peter Parker via his armor's internal wireless network. Something about viral software and Norman Osborne. He was intrigued, but he would have to follow it up in more detail later. Parker was going to e-mail him. He was so preoccupied with getting into the zone to rescue his partners that he forgot o tell Fury to expect a call from Abrahams. That distraction dealt with, he began the process of re-opening the portal.

The portal itself wasn't a physical thing. A steel archway, approximately thirty fee wide at the floor of the lab and twenty feet tall (large enough for a small exploratory craft to fit through) marked the location of the portal when it was inactive. Stark began adjusting settings on the portal control panel that stood fifty feet away, on the opposite side of the lab. He had mastered these controls just days ago, and was now using them for the second time today-he had engaged the sequence to open and close the portal just hours before to allow the ship containing Grimm, Walters and Pym access to the Zone, and their current predicament.

Before he opened the gateway itself, he tripped a wireless download feature in his armor and copied over the complex code for the opening and closing sequence. He had tested this functionality in the ship, and knew that it worked fine, but he was hedging against the possibility that the ship may not be exist anymore by the time he got to its last reported coordinates. As a test, he set the auto-close settings for five seconds from opening, and initiated the opening sequence, all from his armor.

The Extremis armor was by far the most advanced technology Stark had ever devised. Microscopic nanobots , which Stark had injected into his own bloodstream just prior to fleeing the U.S., responded to his thoughts. In basic operation, the nanobots grew and merged around Stark into whatever armor he could picture in his mind. The only limit to the features of each armor was Stark's own far-reaching imagination. Initially, the process included no small amount of physical pain to execute, but months of conditioning and practice overseas had made "suiting up" as natural as bending over to tie his shoes. He had taken a huge, possibly suicidal risk in injecting himself with the untested Extremis serum. It was an act of desperation-whether he lived or died from the injection, it was the only way he could assure that Norman Osborne would not get his hands on the powerful chemical.

Stark had created a variety of new weapons and applications in his new bio-armor while in exile, and like any good inventor, had thoroughly tested each one, and methodically worked out any bugs. Today, he would not have the luxury of a Beta period-time was too precious. Anything new he created from this point until he returned from the Negative Zone would be field tested on the fly.

The steel archway crackled and glowed, and what appeared to be high frequency radio waves filled in the empty gap in its center.

Stark re-ignited his boot jets, and flew into the center of the radio waves. Seconds later, they ceased, leaving the lab still and silent.

Steve Rogers was waiting for Clint Barton at the State of Nevada impound yard. Barton had been formally processed out of jail, and had picked up is belongings. All that was left was to pack his Harley and leave. He was thinking Sun Valley or Vail, maybe a bartending gig at a ski resort until he figured out his next move. He wouldn't have to hide any more, that should open up some prospects. But he also understood that while he would no longer have to deal with pursuit and harassment by law enforcement from every level of the government, he would continue to be judged by the court of popular opinion…and in the eyes of many, he was still a cold-blooded killer. His first order of business was to replace his library of fake IDs that the authorities had destroyed during his latest detainment.

Barton busied himself moving his personal belongings from a cardboard box sitting in the parking lot of the county courthouse to the various saddle bags and storage compartments on the chopper, while he and Rogers talked.

" Steve, look…I cannot tell you how much I appreciate what you have done for me…and believe me, I want to hear the story behind how you got the President to sign off on pardoning me…some day. But I have a life to get on with, and no matter how indebted I feel towards you right now, I still can't picture myself in red, white and blue, leading a team of Avengers. Maybe later, but not now."

"So, it's not totally off the table, then?" asked Rogers hopefully.

Barton looked away from Rogers and sighed," Who knows? The past couple of years have been hell on a lot of us, Steve. Too many deaths. Too many people that don't give a crap that we put our lives on the line to preserve their freedoms. Today I am free man, but even with the internet and God knows how many satellites orbiting Earth right now, it will be months before the public will believe it."

"How long will it take you to believe it, Clint? Does having you record exonerated at the highest level help you forgive yourself?"

"I dunno…I mean, it just happened a couple of hours ago. I've got a lot to process."

Rogers grinned,"Yeah, I guess you do. Offer's still good, though. It doesn't have an expiration date."

Barton grinned slightly and snorted. "That Tedrow guy gave me back your business card with your private number on it. Good guy, that one. Not many good cops left anymore. Maybe you should ask him to be Captain America."

Rogers returned the grin and stuck out his hand. "Be safe, Clint. You know how to find me."

Now straddling the Harley, Barton shook Rogers' hand. "Just out of curiosity…is Jan still going to run the show from the field?"

Rogers' brow furrowed slightly, "Yes, she'll be fine. She has struggled a bit with a couple of the others, but she'll work through that".

"She is a former Avengers Chair; I would think that might carry a little weight, anyway…"

" That was my thought, too…but, you know , we have some very….strong personalities on this team; career military men, people that have owned their own highly successful businesses…Tough job, getting all of them on the same page. She's just surprised a couple of them who only knew her as a former team member and fashion designer before. It's a work in progress."

"Heh…sounds like you've got a whole team of leaders. If Jan doesn't pan out, one of 'em will step up".

" See, there's the thing though, Clint. That is exactly what I don't want. Great generals come from great front-liners. I have always believed that you can't be an effective leader until you become an effective follower. I'm not sure I've got anyone but Jan who fits that description".

In his mind, Barton flashed back to the many (hundreds?) of times he had heard Rogers espouse this philosophy over the years. His personal recollection was that it was usually either himself of Tony Stark that was on the receiving end of this speech, although Rogers was always ready to deliver it to anyone who put themselves before the team. He suddenly felt a twinge of nostalgia for the Avengers squads that he and Rogers had been on in the past. Could that really ever be recaptured again?

Rogers had not lied to Barton about the strong personalities on the current team. Both Rhodes and Grimm had come from military backgrounds, and the lessons that they had learned while serving were very evident in their personalities. Rhodes had in fact been a General, and was more than a little miffed when he learned that he would not be the Avengers' field leader. Rogers had chosen Janet VanDyne (she had dropped her married name when the divorce was finalized), because she had prior leadership experience specifically with the Avengers, rather than the military. Bringing that decision to fruition was fraught with challenges. Jan wasn't entirely sold on the notion that she was the right person to lead this group, and Rogers had frequent "pep talks" with her to continue to sell that concept. Rhodes so far hadn't created any issues over his being passed over, but his resentment was obvious. Grimm, Walters and Cage were not cut from the "Obedient Foot Solder" cloth, either. Cage seemed preoccupied with the safety of his wife and child, to the point of near-paranoia. The addition of John Storm, an individual who had always done things his way, would not make things any easier.

In many ways, this was potentially a classic team of Avengers-a diverse group of dynamic individuals, hopefully setting aside their differences to work towards a commonly-understood greater good. But, the old teams had, for the most part, had Rogers in the field with them, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder. He was a galvanizing force, who commanded the kind of respect that circumvented any envy or resentment felt within the group. While VanDyne was universally well-liked and had a history of making good leadership choices, she didn't have that kind of visceral impact. Rogers felt in his gut that Barton could be that kind of leader, and was rolling the dice that he could convince him to return. Fury disagreed, and was skeptical that Barton could overcome his own psychological baggage, let alone lead a team of Avengers-but, he trusted Rogers' judgment more that anyone's, and was willing to see how this played out.

Barton gunned the Harley "Be safe, Steve. I'm heading up north, a couple of states from your farm. I'll call ya when I get settled in…let ya know where I stand. "With a wave, he pivoted the motorcycle in a screeching 180 and sped off.

Rogers remained standing in the parking lot for several more minutes, rubbing his buzz-cut with his right hand. He was exhausted from the events of the day. Bureaucracy and negotiation wore him out worse than any fistfight he had ever been in. There was progress to report, however. Barton had been freed, his name cleared, and for the first time, he showed interest…well, OK, ambivalence…to joining Roger's team in North Dakota. Rogers opened the driver's door of his rental sedan, and slumped behind the wheel. To be compliant with Governor Puckerman's directives, he would drive into Arizona, then find a hotel to spend the night in, before pushing home tomorrow.

It took Stark almost an hour to find the stalled and smoking pod-craft. Once he had it locked in, he could detect movement on the roof of the vessel. As he moved closer, he could make out figures, locked in combat. Initially, he counted seven humanoid forms…then, he observed an eighth form emerge briefly, fire a weapon at one of the figures, striking it directly, then disappearing back into the pod-craft.

"Nice shot, Pym," Stark muttered under his breath. "Let's see who you got".

He trained one of the armor's internal view screens on the inert form sliding down the side of the small ship. It was Todd Whitman- one of the several "enhanced" criminals deemed too dangerous for any Earth prison. Several years earlier, a blue-ribbon committee formed by Fury pushed through a law that mandated "high-risk" super-criminals could be sentenced to lifetime exile in the Negative Zone. The problem with this initiative was that its jurisdiction ended at the exile-once in the Zone, there was no facility, no administration, no supervision of the deported. So confident was this committee, (which included Reed Richards) that the Zone was escape-proof that the prisoners were free to roam, use whatever resources they could find, and from whatever alliances they could forge amongst themselves.

Convinced that Whitman was either dead, or incapacitated enough to not be a threat, Stark turned his focus to the battle on the roof of the pod. Jennifer Walters seemed to be holding her own against Ulysses Klaw and Max Dillon. Klaw was writhing in agony, the sonic blaster that replaced his right hand was completed detached, and was a crumpled mass of metal in Walter's right fist. She was in fact, using the destroyed bio-weapon to beat Dillon senseless, holding him aloft by the throat with her left hand.

Ben Grimm was not faring as well. He was dug in, trading thunderous punches with a naturalized citizen of the Negative Zone that Stark recognized from old Avengers classified files as Annilhus. Hindering Grimm's efforts was the steady barrage of radioactive energy he was being bathed in, courtesy of Chen Lu, one of China's most notorious super-criminals. Both Grimm and Chen Lu glowed with toxic light, and Grimm was visibly weakening under the double menace of radiation poisoning and Annilhus' repeated pounding.

Stark took a deep breath and began the process of mentally enhancing his Extremis armor. He slowly descended from his flight pattern, until he hovered about 10 feet above the action. A beam of black light emitted from the power source in the chest plate of the armor, and enveloped Chen Lu. The radioactive adversary disappeared from view in the darkness of the beam, but the armor began to glow.

Walters, having tossed the unconscious forms of Klaw and Dillon off of the vehicle and into open Negative Zone space, stood poised for her next action, but was not entirely sure what that should be. She called to Stark, "Who are you and what are you doing?"

"Jen, it's me…Tony…I'm trying to draw off some of Chen Lu's radioactive energy. For God's sake, don't touch him! Or Grimm, either, it looks like he has taken a pretty healthy dose."

As if on cue, a glowing Grimm, realizing that the radiation assault had been interrupted, released a flurry of blows on Annilhus, driving him backwards towards the aft of the disabled ship.

Stark called back to Walters "I'm about to cook in here. I need to go release this stuff someplace safe. I don't know if I completely drained him or not. Try your best to detain him, but if he is glowing at all, do NOT touch him until I get back. Got it?"

"Detain him without touching him? What the fuck, Tony! Are you even listening to yourself here?"

But Stark had cut the absorption beam and had jetted off. Chen Lu stood exactly where he was before Stark had zapped him-smoldering, but with no artificial light emanating.

"Well," thought Walters, striding purposefully towards the seemingly powerless Chen Lu, "He _did_ say 'If he is glowing'…"

She planted her final stride and roundhouse kicked the shocked adversary several yards away from the vessel. The snapping sound she heard upon her foot contacting his ribs made her smile ruefully. She turned to the back of the ship just in time to see Grimm pressing Annilhus over his head with both hands and throwing him over the stern. The glowing aura that had surrounded him was fading, but was still evident. His rocky epidermis was melted and scarred in several places. His left eye appeared to be fused shut. He tuned, looked blankly at Walters for a long moment, then collapsed onto the ship's rear bulkhead.

Walters began to move towards him when the emergency hatch popped open, halfway disgorging a very amped-up Henry Pym. He was aiming a SHIELD blaster in Walter's general direction and was clearly ready to open fire on anything that moved. Walters instinctively stopped and raised her hands over her head.

"Jesus Hank! It's me! Put that thing down, it's over…we got 'em! "

Pym relaxed, set the safety on the weapon and began to finish climbing out onto the roof.

"No! No! Don't come out here! They used God knows what kind of crazy radiation on us. Ben got a huge snootful l of it. He's really sick Hank, but I don't think we should go near him."

Pym began glancing about for any sign of Grimm. Walters nodded towards the back of the ship, where Grimm lay unconscious.

"I can't just leave him there like that, Jen", Pym looked pleadingly at Walters.

"Tony said to not touch anything that's glowing!"

"Tony…Stark? What the Hell…"

At that moment, the blackness of the Negative Zone sky lit up. An enormous, silent explosion of light and color ignited the entire spacescape. It seemed to be several miles from the ship, but was in the same direction that Stark and his glowing payload had flown.

Walters sunk to her knees and began to weep.

" Crap. CrapCrapCrapCrapCrap. Now what are we gonna do?"

12


	7. Chapter 7

**NICK FURY'S AVENGERS CHAPTER 7-CONFRONTATIONS**

In the kitchen of a large, recently renovated ranch house in Northern North Dakota, five adults and a small child sat around one end of an enormous butcher-block table, chatting over coffee or tea. Janet Van Dyne and most of the group who would be her charges in the newest incarnation of The Avengers were getting their latest teammate up to speed on the activities that led to them being there.

"So did Steve recruit all of you?" asked John Storm.

" He was who approached Jess and I ", said Luke Cage nodding towards his wife, the former Jessica Jones, who was feeding their infant son. "I was intimidated as hell…I mean, crap…Captain America wanted _me_ on his team? Are you kidding? But Jess played hardball with 'im".

" I wasn't _that _tough on him", Jones responded, " He came to us selling security for us and the baby…he pointed out the obvious , that as former super-heroes with a child there weren't many places where we could be…safe. I just wanted him to spell out plainly what he had in mind, and asked for a couple of things he hadn't mentioned."

She looked at Storm, whose expression indicated he was interested in hearing more.

"I'm really not 'gifted' anymore, John. I lost my powers some time ago. I wasn't exactly sure how I would fit into Colonel Rogers' plans. He has allowed me and the baby to live here, rent free, in exchange for a few pretty simple household tasks."

"Heh", Van Dyne interceded, "Don't let Jess fool you. Running a real live horse ranch that doubles as the secret headquarters for a team of superheroes requires a lot of planning and coordination. Jess worked with Steve and I on all of the plans, ordered the materials, and told Steve just exactly what kind of skilled labor SHIELD should be providing to get this place up and running. Now that we are more or less set up, she assigns each day's task lists to the rest of us …and she swings the meanest hammer this side of Thor herself. "

" Well, to be fair, all of the interior design for the ranch that is above ground came from Jan, and her great eye for style", replied Jones.

A smiling James Rhodes chimed in " Hey Jess, let's not forget your major contribution to the construction of the part of the ranch that is below ground".

Everyone at the table except Storm laughed openly. Jess Jones' face flushed crimson.

"Ah Hell, she won't tell this, so I will" said Cage. " Long story made short, the local sheriff came by asking a _lot_ of questions when we were digging out the area downstairs for the parts of the HQ that were kinda…special security, if you catch the drift…the gyms, the labs, the communications center, the Quinjet hangar and repair dock, stuff like that. Thanks to Rhodey, Ben and Jen Walters, we didn't need a lot of heavy equipment to do the actual digging…"

" You did a lot of that too, honey." Jones interjected.

"Yeah well anyway…we did have a bunch of SHIELD technical contractors running around the property, installing stuff, testing it and whatnot. It was quite a scene for a few days. So…Steve is talking with the sheriff while this chaos is going on, trying to convince him that he is actually building a bomb shelter under the ranch, and he's not having a lot of luck. Now understand, the few locals that are around are 10 miles from here in any direction, know who Steve is, and what he was. And while most of 'em love him to death and are really respectful, there are a few that are a mite…suspicious of us in general. And the sheriff most definitely falls into that category.

"Do they know about the rest of you...that his is actually kind of a commune for super-types? The rest of us can look pretty normal, but Ben and Jen…"

Rhodes spoke up. " We don't get visitors out here all that often. When we do, the two of them make themselves scarce. They go downstairs to the gym or to monitor 'hot spots' that can be potential missions for us down the road. The locals recognize Steve and Jan because...well, they are celebrities. So far, it hasn't been much of an issue though".

Jess chimed in,"The Sheriff is a little more persistent than most. I get it. He wants to keep his people safe. Out here, anyone from New York is a weirdo, let alone someone who ran around in spandex for most of their adult life. Some of us have spent our careers in a pretty high profile fish tank, and that arouses suspicion in some parts of the country".

Cage laughed loudly. "He comes out here more often now to visit his new girlfriend".

Jess flushed crimson again.

Cage continued, in a mocking tone, " 'Mornin', Sheriff! Gonna be a beautiful day, huh?'. I'm workin' on a fence about 30 feet away, not really paying' much attention, and all of a sudden, I'm like, 'Was that my wife?'"

" Pure Dolly Parton" added Rhodes.

Storm grinned," Really? Aren't you from The Bronx, Jess?"

"Yeah, I'm as Yancy Street as Ben is. But like most of you, I've been a few places. It wasn't tough to work up a little false Rural Charm, under the circumstances."

"So you flirted with the local cop to convince him that you were all OK neighbors?"

"Um...she _convinced _him that he had nothing to worry about", Jan responded with a genuine grin.

Storm folded his arms across his chest and scanned the other around the table, his own smile still evident. "What have I gotten myself into here? This is like a throwback to when we were all first starting out".

"Yep", nodded Jan, "That is exactly what it 'gifted' community that we knew in our heydays has for the most part, moved on, for a variety of reasons. Some are technically wanted by the law and have gone into hiding. Others have had some deeply personal losses that have scared them away. John, you should be aware of that one more than anyone here. Most simply soured on the idea of spending each day risking their necks for a public that didn't care anymore.

"Hey, we could all use a break from this thankless lifestyle that we chose years ago. It's changed us all, some in good ways, some in not so good ways. I have gone in a couple of different directions myself over that past few years. But I always wind up coming back because the bad guys don't take sabbaticals. While our numbers shrink, they just go on endlessly. And when _they_ come back, they are just darker and scarier every time."

Rhodes cleared his throat and picked up from there, " SHIELD is giving us a chance to fill that void, to be the ones who jump-start the good guys camp again. And while I don't agree with a lot of the strategic choices", he shot a quick glare at Jan, " the concept was sound enough to get me interested".

Jan stared at Rhodes from across the table. " Fury and Steve both rushed Rhody. Recruiting a career Army guy who is also five-star general seemed like a big enough task to warrant having them both involved . Fury is a master at finding everyone's price, though. For Rhodey it was the chance to be Iron Man for real, without Tony Stark looking over his shoulder. Steve had all of the right Pentagon connections to arrange for an honorable but very quiet discharge. "

The two locked in a mutual, impassive stare across the table for a very long, silent moment.

Storm turned his coffee cup again on the table surface " What about you Jan...you had a pretty successful life outside of this craziness. Why come back? "

Jan smiled warmly, "If you're hoping I will say something that will help you figure out why _you_ did it, I'm afraid you will be disappointed, John. All I can tell you is that not many people can use the words 'duty' and 'destiny' with the conviction and commitment that Steve Rogers does. I don't know how else to describe it...but whether he can be Captain America anymore or not, that man is all of the best of the American Ideal. After talking with him for 10 minutes, being a guest judge on Project Runway seemed kind of...a petty way to spend my time, I guess."

Everyone around the table nodded in almost reverent agreement. Each of them, at one time or another, had been moved to action by the words of Colonel Rogers.

Jan broke the silence with a quiet giggle, "The guy was so good he even got me to agree to work with Hank again, if the situation warranted it."

Storm registered some surprise, " Dr. Pym is part of this too?"

"He's not part of the field team...he...Hank's had a tough time. He is one of the ones that got rocked pretty hard emotionally by all of this fantastical crap over the years. He is part of the SHIELD Research and Development Team, back east somewhere. Before he was Ant-Man, Giant-Man, Goliath, Yellowjacket, or any of his other fifty-million aliases, he was one of the three most respected research biologists in the world. That is his contribution to SHIELD currently. "

At that moment, the ranch's security system detected a car coming up the long driveway from the main road. A four-screen holographic monitor appeared and hovered over the table. Each screen displayed from different angles, a blue Ford Focus raising dust as it sped up the drive.

In a rich British accent, the security system intoned, " Driver of a 2012 Focus Sedan is Colonel Steve Rogers, full clearance to this facility. Intruder risk is estimated at zero. Shall I open the gate , Ms. Van Dyne?"

"Yes, Jarvis. Thank you."

The holographic monitors disappeared.

" Jarvis...Edwin Jarvis...the Avengers' butler…but he...", Storm's voice trailed off.

...died. Yes, a number of years ago", Jan finished his thought for him."Peacefully, in his sleep, thank God. He may have been the greatest, most loyal Avenger ever, for all of the things he endured. Tony programmed all of the voice synth in the Mansion systems and databases to communicate in Edwin's voice. It was the last thoughtful thing that Tony ever did. We had the SHIELD techies strip all of the sophisticated stuff out of the mansion and installed here. Some of it is pretty buggy, and will probably stay that way unless Tony materializes out of thin air some day to hook it up right. But it's kind of comforting to have Edwin here with us, in spirit."

The sound of the front door opening and closing put a temporary end to the discussion. Rogers was yelling as his footsteps creaked across the living room floorboards.

"Hey! Who wants an actual, real-live assignment?! Assemble!"

The others rushed to the living room.

Rogers, always the leader, did a rapid briefing.

"We'll get the details from Fury on our way to New York. What I learned from him on the way here is that Reed Richards was found -alive, but in pretty bad shape-in the Negative Zone. Ben, Jennifer and Hank Pym went into to get him, got into a jam, and ...and I'm still not sure if I caught this right or not-but Nick confirmed it- Tony Stark went to get them. At any rate, they are all somewhere in the Zone, and communication has been cut. We need to go in and assess the situation, get as many of them out as are still alive. We need to all be airborne in a Quinjet in three minutes. I'll answer any questions as I learn more while we fly. "

"Reed?" questioned Storm

"Aw, Hank…" said Janet Van Dyne with some exasperation.

"STARK!?" barked Rhodes.

"Two minutes and forty-five seconds", yelled Rogers, who was already moving down a hallway towards the underground Quinjet hangar. "Are we gonna do this or what?"

Jen Walters, Hank Pym and Ben Grimm had perched on the roof of their disabled spacecraft for what...hours? days? With no change in the alignment of planets and stars in the Negative Zone, and no power in their vehicle , the passing of time became impossible to track.

Over Walters' protests, Pym examined Grimm for injuries after the radioactive glow that Grimm had acquired from their battle had died off for a good while. Grimm floated in and out of consciousness, and it was difficult for Pym to assess his overall condition while stranded in negative space without the proper diagnostic tools. There did not seem to be any broken bones, but Grimm had likely lost the use of his left eye permanently, and seemed to be suffering from a significant concussion. There was no way to tell the extent of the internal damage that his exposure to Chen Lu had caused.

Walters sat towards the from of the stalled craft, looking into the vast emptiness. She was exhausted, but she knew that they were sitting ducks out here-there was no place for them to hide or defend themselves adequately from another attack. She was amazed that a return of their antagonists hadn't occurred yet, and hopefully chalked that up to the damage that she and her teammates had inflicted in the battle. So she kept watch, looking for signs of any movement amongst the stars , planetoids and other space debris. She had long since assumed that what was left of Reed Richards had either died of exposure or been killed by whatever remaining Zone prisoners were guarding him. The mission was a failure, and everyone involved except her and Pym were either dead or seriously injured.

She peered downward at the small planet where they had initially spotted Richards. A small, blinking light shown between the mass and the stalled ship. A star? If so, she would wish upon it for a quick and relatively painless death for herself and her two companions. A missile or some other projectile designed to instigate that death? Good. So much the better.

She stared at it, wrapped in these morose thoughts. It was definitely getting closer. So much for stars to wish upon. She glanced sidewards at Pym and Grimm. Grimm had nodded off again, and Pym was focused on trying to monitor his vital signs. She would not warn them. Nothing any of them could do anyway , and it would just make Pym panic. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable. This still beat the crap out of wasting away from cancer. Ben would be free from pain now, there was something to be said for that…

"When your union-mandated naps are all over, do you think I could get...just a_ little _ help here?"

"_OK, that was pretty painless," _thought Walters, _"but why does God sound just like Tony Stark? "_

She slowly opened her eyes. She, Pym and Grimm were still on the top of the broken spacecraft, and presumably were still alive. Tony Stark, appearing very much alive himself, hovered above them with his hands on his hips. His armour looked like it had been enhanced since he sped away from them, full of Chen Lu's excess radiation. It was larger, and looked more streamlined, seamless and airtight. It seemed now like it was designed for working in space.

Pym was arguing with him, " Where the Hell have _you _been? We saw an explosion, you didn't come back, we assumed the worst. Instead, it looks like you've been off tinkering with that damn armour again. And not to sound like an ingrate or anything, but what the Hell are you doing out here in the first place? Aren't you in rehab?"

" Hank...listen...slow down, you know how you get when you get worked up. Look, I'll explain how I got here, the armor, everything when we get back, I promise. But Richards is still alive down there, and we need to grab him pretty soon if we want to see him stay that way!"

Walters joined the discussion, " How do you know that?"

"Because I just came from being down there! I've seen him! He's heavily guarded-some of the guys we fought and a couple of others- but we can take them for as long as we need to get Reed out!"

Pym jumped in again, " And you managed to escape detection by….?"

"Stealth Mode"

Walters now, "Your armor has Stealth Mode now?"

"Yep. As of about an hour ago."

Pym and Walters looked at each other. Pym was clearly angry. Walters shrugged her shoulders, "Hank, I don't see as we have a lot of other options".

Pym tuned away from the two of them to attend to Grimm again. "If you two want to get yourselves killed, go right ahead. I have a patient in critical condition to look after."

From her seated position, Walters reached her right arm up to where Stark was hovering. "Give me a hand up, playboy. Let's go beat up some bad guys."

Walter's wishful thinking and Stark's thumbnail assessment of the group of felons on the planet's surface were both reasonably accurate. The rescue team were not alone in suffering some significant damage.

Crusher Creel and Cain Marko had been assigned to remain on the planet and guard Richards during the offensive on the rescue team's ship, and hence were unharmed. Additionally, Todd Arliss, due to his advanced physiognomy, had completely shaken off the effects of the full-on blast he took from Pym's SHIELD-issued stun gun. Chen Lu was bruised, a minor discomfort compared to the fact that he was also totally drained of any radioactive energy. He was relatively unharmed but also completely powerless.

Others had not fared as well.

Ulysses Klaw moaned in agony, applying a makeshift tourniquet to his right wrist where his sound-enhancing equipment was once surgically mounted.

Max Dillon lay in a coma-alive, but barely, as a result of the thrashing he took from Jen Walters.

The group's leader Annihilus, sat against a rock outcropping. He was conscious and aware of the situation, but appeared to be unable to move his legs.

Reed Richards, the bounty in this game, lay on the dirty planet surface in a feverish sleep. His limbs were all stretched in various directions and at odd angles, suggesting some degree of skeletal damage.

"They will come here for Richards, if even one of them still lives", craoked Annihilus weakly," I am concerned that we no longer have the resources to finish them off when they do".

" We watched Rhodes… or Stark...or whoever was in the Iron Man suit...blow up from radiation overdose with our own eyes", Marko responded," that leaves Grimm, the green girl and crazy Dr. Pym. I don't see much of an issue here".

"_You_ _and Creel _saw what you thought was Iron Man's demise. The rest of us did not. You had better be sure of this." warned Annihilus. " And it would behoove us to not underestimate the potential impact of the remaining three. All are formidable in their own way."

"Can anyone please stop this pain?" asked Klaw plaintively, clutching his arm.

Annihilus let out a dramatic sigh, " Mr. Arliss, can you bring Dr. Klaw over to me?"

Arliss nodded, walked a few feet to where Klaw was writhing in agony, picked him up by the throat with one hand and walked leisurely back to where Annihilus was sitting.

"The pain...it is very intense, isn't it, Dr. Klaw?" asked Annihilus.

Klaw nodded as best he could with Arliss' hand wrapped around his windpipe.

"Then let's indeed put an end to it at once" the insectoid leader nodded to Arliss.

With a motion so swift it could not be followed with a human eye, Todd Arliss placed his opposite palm on the side of Ulysses Klaw's head and twisted counter-clockwise. A loud snap echoed off of the surrounding rocks, and Klaw appeared to be looking directly behind he and Arliss.

Suspended inched off the ground by Arliss' hold, the life drained from his arms and legs.

"Dispose of the body, Mr. Arliss. " hissed Annihilus, with a tinge of resentment.

A few feet away, Chen Lu had been manning a security monitor. "I've got something coming this way from the general direction of their ship!"

The members of the group that were still conscious and ambulatory gathered around him. Even in the magnified view of their observation camera, the object was nothing more than a white comet-like blur, moving at a high rate of speed.

"Iron Man" growled Creel.

"Gotta be", agreed Marko.

"So then", rasped Annihilus, " He survived. Assume your positions everyone, as we planned. And be prepared for anything!"

As the others scattered to various previously-agreed upon stations, Chen Lu took one more look at the monitor before he exited.

"There are two objects now approaching!"

10


End file.
